For the Dreaming
by Apatt
Summary: Hiccup was not always the dragon-rider hero of Berk. To many people he was known as Hiccup the Useless, but to others he was all but useless. He was an adventurer and he was a good friend. Hiccup had a life before he became obsessed with killing a dragon, and this is the story of that life.
1. Worried

**Disclaimer: I do not own this. All rights go to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. I hope you enjoy this short rambling of mine. If you have any suggestions please comment.**

**Onwards…**

* * *

Hiccup climbed the small hill away from his village. Berk lay sprawled out behind him as an old scar of brown wood against the otherwise green cliff side. Well, the term 'Old' was relative here. Hiccup's village had been around for centuries, but the only building that was more than three years old was Mildew's, the rest had been burned and rebuilt, only to be burned again. Leading to the uniquely Viking phenomena of an old village with all new buildings, but Berk didn't settle for being uniquely Viking. No. Berk was uniquely Viking in a unique sort of way.

All of its buildings were painted in dull colors; the normal lustrous sheen you might expect of Norse architecture had been faded black by centuries of dragon fire. That was really the only problem about living in Berk. Berk's pests were dragons: dragons the size of a house that could light themselves ablaze with even the slightest provocation; dragons who raided Berk's food stores and could burn down dozens of houses in a single night.

Last night there had been another raid. This one actually hadn't been quite all that bad. The only food that the dragons had managed to steal was from the chum buckets, and that could be easily replaced, and the only building that had been completely burned down was Dogsbreath's and in all honesty Hiccup was not overly upset about that.

Dogsbreath was a bully. That was all that could be said about him. He was a year older than Hiccup, and he picked on the young-chief-to-be whenever the opportunity arose. Dogsbreath had not been home during the raid, he had been picking on Hiccup and Fishlegs, Hiccup's best and only friend, in the evacuation shelter before the raid started.

That created an unpleasant night. Hiccup would have much rather spent the evening with a Gronckle than with Dogsbreath. Dogsbreath had been especially angry last night, he kept going on and on about how he knew that Hiccup had done it. Which was ridiculous. Dogsbreath had no proof that it was Hiccup.

Finally, the hill ended and Hiccup was able to see Fishlegs. Fishlegs was like Hiccup in many ways, both boys were not ideal Vikings, they both preferred to talk rather than fight, and they both thought that reading was a more vital skill than axe-throwing, but above all the thing that united them was their size.

Hiccup was small even considering he was only six years old. He was thin and short, not the best combination of traits when you are growing up on an island filled with hungry dragons. Fishlegs on the other hand had a slightly different size problem. He was even shorter than Hiccup, by about a head, but he was also substantially larger around his waist than Hiccup. Fishleg's parents were both enormous warriors, so it was expected that he would grow into a great warrior as well, and he certainly grew. The only problem was that he grew outwards instead of upwards.

"Which do you think did that?" Fishlegs asked upon seeing Hiccup. Fishlegs was referring of course to Dogsbreath's house which lay on the to the other side of the hill to Hiccup's right.

"I think a Nadder," Hiccup suggested. He had overheard his father talking this morning about how much trouble a Nadder had been last night.

"My bets on a Nightmare. See the burn marks around the building? They look like claws."

Hiccup's friend pointed towards a series of scorch marks that encircled the charred husk of the building. If you squinted your eyes just right they did indeed look like the tell-tale claw marks of an ignited Nightmare, but if you squinted your eyes in any other way the blackened grass looked like any other patch of flame riddled grass on the island.

Hiccup sat down beside the blonde headed boy and together they watched the reconstruction. There really was not much to do on a small island like Berk. Hiccup himself had already crawled and clambered around almost every nook and cranny of the island.

"Err… that can't be good," Fishlegs mumbled.

"What? Oh…." Hiccup caught a glance of the Thorston twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

The twins were always up to something. They preferred to think of themselves as light-hearted pranksters that brought laughter to the disheartened Berkians, but almost everyone else viewed their antics with anger and disappointment. Today the twins were scampering away from the village as they hauled a large bundle of rope into the forest.

"What do you think they're up to now?" Fishlegs asked his friend who was gazing out over the ocean; evidently he had already forgotten about the twins and had something else to occupy his attention. "Hiccup?" He reached out and prodded his skinny friend. "Err…"

Hiccup quickly glanced over at his friend. He had been lost in thought. That was his mind for you. 'Less attention than a sparrow' was what his father always said. Hiccup thought that he had seen a black dragon flying out over the waves heading towards the village. But that was impossible, dragons only attacked at night, and it couldn't be a black dragon. Those were just a myth.

"How do we know that a Nightfury is black if nobodies ever seen one?" Hiccup asked. It didn't make sense. He heard that they were the 'unholy offspring of lightning and death itself' but that wasn't very descriptive. That was just some poetic description to epitomize how deadly the illusive fury was. A Nightfury had never even been seen raiding Berk, so how did they know what it looked like?

"Somebody must have seen one," Fishlegs shrugged. "Why?"

The black dragon that had previously been fast approaching the island flitted close enough to be revealed as just another raven.

"No reason. I was just—"

"Well, if it isn't my favorite cousin!" Snotlout boomed out from behind Hiccup, causing his favorite cousin to cringe while Fishlegs jumped in the air.

"Uhh… hey, Snot," Hiccup mumbled. He turned around and saw that Dogsbreath was following close behind his less-than-favorite cousin. Those two were never all that far apart from each other and they only approached Hiccup when they were looking to cause trouble.

"Oh, err… look at that, its err… time… for err…." Fishlegs wobbled to his feet and tried to walk away nonchalantly.

"Nonsense, Legs, why you were just the boy I was—" Snotlout coughed, keeping his voice deep and all manly-low was a strain on his young throat. Hiccup didn't know why he did it. Snotlout's voice wasn't all that high to begin with, and Hiccup's was certainly higher.

Dogsbreath took a step in front of his coughing friend. "What he means is that you don't need to—"

Snotlout pushed his friend aside. "We just want to—" He cleared his throat, and regained his manly-six-year-old-timbre. "Talk is all. We have better things to do than mess with you today."

Now that was a lie. Snotlout and Dogsbreath had absolutely nothing better to do than mess with Hiccup and Fishlegs. It was between that and run water to the workers who were busy below, and given a choice, could you really blame Snotlout for choosing to mess with peers? Yes. Yes, you could. Hiccup decided. In his short life, Hiccup had already broken his arm twice, both times at the hands of his cousin, and Hiccup was tired of it. He just wanted to be left alone with his friend.

"As future chief," Hiccup's only and least favorite cousin continued. "I need to be prepared to handle delicate situations delicately, and I think that—"

"But you're not an heir," Fishlegs interrupted. "You're not going to be the next chief. Hiccup is."

Hiccup shot his friend a look that clearly meant 'Stop talking before you get snotface over here to attack us.' Unfortunately, Hiccup's glare went unnoticed as Fishlegs continued to go into detail about how the chief's successor would be his son, because it was Hiccup's birthright and since Hiccup was older.

"Only by two weeks!" Snotlout complained. "And I'll be the next chief, Legs. And you know why?" Snotlout took a menacing step towards Fishlegs who was trying to hide his head behind his back as he shrank before the imposing bully in front of him. "Because I can actually do stuff! That's why. What can he do that I can't?"

"He can read," Fishlegs mumbled.

Why did Fishlegs have to say that? Hiccup complained to himself. Couldn't his friend see that he wasn't helping? If anything he was just making this whole ordeal last longer than it needed to.

"Reading's useless," Dogsbreath supported his friend. "Why should the chief need to read?"

"See! He can only do something that's useless," Snotlout jabbed a finger at Fishlegs doughy physique. "And you know what that makes him? Useless. Hiccup the Useless," Snotlout leaned back and laughed. "Only six, and you've already got your Viking name: Hiccup the Useless!"

Dogsbreath clapped his friend on the back and joined in his laughter.

"Hiccup the Useless." Dogsbreath snorted. "Ha! Chief Useless!"

Snotlout elbowed his friend in the gut. "He's not chief remember? I'm the next chief."

"Oh, yea. Just Useless then," Dogsbreath smiled showing his crooked teeth in the morning light.

"I would have _LEFT_ the chief part out if I were you." Hiccup returned Dogbreath's smile, and his bully's smile vanished and was replaced with a snarl.

"See! I told you it was him!" He shouted and leapt at Hiccup.

Hiccup was anticipating this reaction and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the surprisingly muscular seven year old. Hiccup tried to crawl back to his feet only to be ripped from the ground by Snotlout's boot. He rolled onto his back and started retching.

Snotlout bent over and hefted him back onto his feet by his collar. "I wanted to do this delicately." He snarled in his cousin's face.

"That's a big word you got there snotface." Hiccup spat back. "I'm surprised someone as young as you can handle it."

Snotlout bellowed in rage and threw Hiccup down the hill. He hated the fact that Hiccup was older than him. He hated the fact that Hiccup was destined to be chief. He hated the fact that his father was second even to the crippled blacksmith. But above all, he hated that Hiccup didn't seem bothered by him. He hated that he couldn't hurt Hiccup. Every time he was knocked down he stood right back up, and he never told anyone how he got hurt, he never told Uncle Stoick how it had been his cousin that beat him up. He never cried, he never called out in pain, and it infuriated Snotlout. How could Hiccup be stronger than he was?

Snotlout ran down the hill to chase after Hiccup who was groggily rising to his feet, Dogsbreath followed close behind, and Fishlegs had disappeared. Snotlout was right on top of Hiccup; he kept running, aiming to knock his cousin back to the ground before he could fully rise again.

Hiccup lashed out, swinging his loosely closed fist in a high arc against the charging boy. Snotlout raised his arm blocking the blow and struck Hiccup in the temple with his shoulder and chest, which sent the smaller boy sprawling back to the ground. Snotlout followed him down and pressed his knee against Hiccup's chest.

He leaned forward, steadily applying more pressure. "I want you to apologize to Dogsbreath." He hissed. "And say that I will be the next chief." Snotlout pressed harder against Hiccups ribs. He thought he could feel them bending beneath the weight, but he did not care. Hiccup was going to admit that he was weaker. He was going to say that he was the worse Viking.

Hiccup locked eyes with his tormentor. For a moment it seemed like he wasn't going to give in. His eyes were filled with the green intensity that was complete loathing.

"Fine," Hiccup relented. "You will be –"

"**Eat my dust!**" Two voices harmonized from behind the hill, their shout intermingling with the bleats of a dozen sheep.

"I'm winning!"

"Na-huh! I'm winning!"

A white wave cascaded over the hill. It seemed like all of Berk's sheep were running in a stampede towards the village. At the front of the wooly wave rode the twins. Long circles of rope held them tied onto the backs of two sheep each that they had hurriedly lashed together. Tuffnut bent down against his fluffy ride and slapped the left sheep's flank urging it to go faster, and causing his sheep vehicle to swerve against his sister's.

"Watch where you're going!" Ruffnut yelled.

"You watch it!" Tuffnut shouted back.

"Run!" Dogsbreath and Snotlout shouted.

The sheep stampede reached Hiccup who was enveloped in a raging sea of wool and hooves. He curled himself into a ball, for a moment he was protected. The sheep parted their path around him as the one's leading the valiant charge could identify the obstacle that blocked their path. The next sheep plowed ahead and struck against hiccups chest with a thud.

* * *

I opened my eyes slowly and lifted a black wing to look at my hatchling. It was awake, but it kept its eyes closed. This was its morning ritual. For the last two sun-risings it had lain awake without waking fully. It refused to see the light of the new sun, but instead chose to remain in a fetid pool of self-deprecation.

My hatchling was strange, even for a two-legs. But that was not always a bad thing. It was strange when it found me in the woods and saved me, but that definitely was a good thing. I still could not believe it. My hatchling had saved me. Me! A… what was the two-legs term…? Toothless. That was it. A Toothless. My little-two-legs saved me, a Toothless, one of the most feared dragons in the entire archipelago, and it had not killed me.

I looked down at my pretending-to-be-asleep-hatchling who was curled against my legs for warmth. It had found me, caught in the embrace of a two-legs-flameless-shot, and it removed the vines from my body. It peeled the stones from my chest and now –now it was even growing my tail back!

I shifted the trunk of my tail; the right fin splayed out against the rising sun, its blue-black membrane shone as the light streamed through the thin velvet, while the left fin….

"I'll fix this." My hatchling made a noise. It sounded strange to my ears, it was a high melody of morosely cascading notes, and for the thousandth time since meeting my hatchling, I wished that it could rumble in my draconic trill. I would take anything, even a simple hello, but it was not to be. I would not hear it speak my own tongue.

We had tried communicating. My hatchling had wandered around my cove pointing at the rocks and the trees, saying 'Rock' and 'Tree.' But it was no use. I understood that these rocks were 'Rocks' but when I told my hatchling rock; it did not seem to recognize my own words and instead repeated 'Ro-ock' slowly as if hearing 'Rock' any slower was going to help me.

In turn I had tried to communicate with my hatchling by thought-touch. I even considered reaching out to it in the Ginnungagap, but that was forbidden so I refrained from that endeavor. Instead I brushed my thoughts against its own while it was awake. I could feel its deep sadness, but I could not get past its emotions. And I felt like it could feel my own emotions because it responded in kind to my anxiety, but it never reached out to me. My hatchling never tried to envelope my mind with its own.

"I'll fix this," It repeated.

I looked down and stared into its small green eyes. They were no longer the fierce eyes of defiance that I had seen in the Ginnungagap, no. These eyes were… sad. They looked back at me, but they did not glint or crackle as my hatchling's jaw and lips spread apart revealing its teeth. They seemed to be fixed on something in the past, on something that haunted my poor hatchling.

It sighed, rolling its miniscule shoulders against my rough hide. "There's dragon training today," It sounded upset. I reached out with my muzzle and pressed against its chest. "I know Toothless, but I have to go," My hatchling laughed and I felt a stab of joy pierce the darkness of its thoughts. "But I'll be back tonight."

My little-two-legs placed its forelegs around my head and I helped it onto its feet. It rubbed its oddly soft claws against my forehead, and then it was gone. My little-two-legs climbed out of my cove; it turned around once it had ascended out of my prison and raised its foreleg, pausing for a brief moment while it stared down at me in my cove, before turning and disappearing from my sight.

I snorted and stood. This had all started when I tried to get my hatchling to eat its fish. Ever since then it had been visiting me more and more often. It ran about my small cove, but it brought tree-eggs filled with food so I tolerated its presence. At first it had been annoying, just like all hatchlings. The hatchling had tried to get me to play with it while I was trying to sleep, it tried to play with my fins, but then ran away from me on the few occasions that I actually wanted to play with it; then something changed. It stopped being annoying. The hatchling's behavior stopped being aggravating. I stopped dreading its scent wafting into my cove and instead began to yearn to see my hatchling's speckled head pop out from amongst the imprisoning stone. It had become my hatchling.

I could not tell when it became mine exactly. I spent many of my long hours here trying to decide, and I had narrowed it down to two possibilities.

The first was the time that my little-two-legs and I had actually played together. It was carving a rut into the ground and I had reciprocated its pattern, and then the two-legs had followed it! It spun its way through the carvings and found me on the other side. I think that is when it became my hatchling; but I cannot be sure.

The first time that I remember actually calling it my hatchling though was after I had knocked it off of my tail and into the lake. After I had floundered out of the frigid water, I remember turning and seeing my hatchling shivering from the water trapped within its wet fur. "My hatchling!" I had crooned before rushing over to envelop the little form in my wings.

But I did not have a revelation then that I had just called this two-legs my hatchling. It felt right at the time and I didn't even blink when I said it. It was only after my hatchling had left that I thought about what I had called it. It was true. It was my hatchling. I had sheltered it, given it food, played with it, and now, as of this sun-rising I had even shared dreams with it.

My hatchling and I had fallen asleep together. I had wrapped my wing over its small body and together we had drifted into Ginnungagap, the primordial essence that connects all dragons to each other. As far as I knew us Toothless', I actually rather liked this two-legs word… Toothless… we are the only dragons able to do such things, but for all I know every dragon can do it. I would have asked them, but the other dragons –they did not talk to me much.

I was an outsider from hatching. I had hatched on an island, completely alone. The two-heads that found me took care of me for a while. She brought me fish, and for a few seasons she raised me. She could never stay long though, she would just fly overhead and drop food on my little outcropping, or land to prune over my scales before heading back to her queen. One sunrise she didn't return. I waited for her, but….

I was bigger then. I could fly on my own. When I made it to the queen's island I was met as an outcast. I was without a brood, without merit and without friends. That was when the dreams started.

I began to see into the minds of those around me. I could see what they had experienced; I could peek into their past, I could even talk to them. But, I only did that once. After waking up the queen called me. She told me that what I had done was wrong, it was forbidden, so I contented myself to merely listen, to learn about what they were, who they are, what made them happy, what made them sad…

I looked back at the wall of stone that separated me from my hatchling. "I will find out why you are sad," I promised. "I will help you."


	2. Exile

**Disclaimer: Once again all rights go to the amazing Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. I promise that the story will stop being such a downer, I just wanted to establish the characters' depression. **

**Onwards…**

* * *

Hiccup was not looking forward to the Thing. He was going to have to sit quietly through long, boring meetings that he would have no say in, then he would have to attend an even longer night of listening to his father as he critique his son's behavior, and lastly he was going to have to fight Thuggory, the Meathead heir. This fight was not in the schedule per-say, but knowing how boastful his father was… Hiccup sighed. He was going to have to fight Thuggory. There was nothing that Hiccup was looking forward to on this trip.

"At least the sailing part's over," Hiccup consoled himself as he climbed down from the boat and stood on the, gratefully, solid ground again. He had hated every minute of the voyage to Meathead Island. The young heir was not fond of the ship's constant rocking to begin with, but conditions were worsened by the constraining size of the small longboat which made it impossible to find any time for himself. Every time Hiccup managed to crack open a book his father would burst through the figurative-door, slashing aside the flimsy curtain with his hand and demand that Hiccup do something useful with his time.

Hiccup couldn't blame his father though. This was the first time that the heirs were going to be meeting each other; it was supposed to be at least. There was actually one thing that Hiccup was looking forward to one this trip: Cami. Hiccup had seen her a few years ago; she had been captured and was being used as a hostage in negotiations with the Bog-Burglars, and Cami had accidentally run into Hiccup as she was slinking away to 'burgal sneaking supplies.' Hiccup still wasn't sure what that had meant. Cami hadn't even used the nails that she had stolen from Gobber.

Stoick the Vast jumped in front of Hiccup, causing the wooden boards to creak in protest beneath his massive bulk. A much smaller man strode forward to greet Hiccup's father. He was Mogadon, the Meathead chief.

"Glad you could finally make it!" Mogadon beamed and clasped Stoick's arm in greeting. "And where's this warrior son o' yours?"

Hiccup stepped forward. He was eager to get these unpleasant pleasantries out of the way. After Stoick finished parading him through the streets maybe he could find solace in the ship while the others went off to have their chief-only-festivities.

"Oi! You've been lying to me, Stoick! You said that yer boy was going to be bigger than you one day."

"He's still growing," Stoick growled. "And where's your great warrior of a son? I don't see him here."

Mogadon laughed, tilting his head back as he tried to laugh in Stoick the Vast's face, which as his name implied was quiet hard to do.

"He's that monstrosity over there," Mogadon pointed to a young man who was carrying two baskets of fish into the storage shed. Thuggory had one basket balanced on his shoulder while he had the other pinned against his hip by a muscular arm. Yep… Hiccup gulped. He was definitely going to lose this inevitable fight.

"What is it with you boys and size?" A female voice chirped into the conversation.

Hiccup turned and saw a huge woman walking towards him, behind her followed Cami. Her tangled hair bounced lightly in the sun. She gave Hiccup a slight smile, something that was a cross between a scowl and a greeting that left Hiccup wondering what the heiress thought of him.

"When will you learn that it is how you use it that counts?" The large woman continued in a surprisingly light voice before folding her arms across her chest and waiting for a rebuttal.

"Oh, you're one to talk, Bertha. Remind me Mogadon, what's her full name again?" Stoick asked, also folding his arms as he stared at the woman who stood at the same height as him. The Bog-Burglar chief met his stare with determination. She was not going to back down from these boys.

"Big-Boobied Bertha," Mogadon said softly. He seemed to have shrunk in comparison to the two colossal chiefs who stood on either side of him. Mogadon would never admit it, but he knew that of the three of them he was the least likely to ever win in a fair fight. Bertha could crush him with both hands tied behind her back, and Stoick could probably knock his head off with a backhanded slap.

"Hey. These bosoms have killed before," Bertha pushed her chest forward and calmly shoved a strong finger into Stoick's chest. "And they will kill again."

Camicazi buried her head in her hands and tried to hide from the emotional fiasco that was unfolding before her. Who said that? She cringed again at the mental image of her mother's bosom killing a man. But the other two chiefs were too busy laughing to notice their children's discomfort at the shared trauma of having a parent talk about… that.

"It's been too long," Stoick wiped at his eyes. "What's it been? Two years?"

Bertha nodded enthusiastically. "I should know, after all you had just kidnapped my daughter!"

Hiccup tensed, certain that the chiefs were about to take a tumbling dive into the frigid sea as they started a war, but Bertha only laughed and slapped her arms around Stoick in a firm embrace.

"To the hall!" Mogadon cried.

"To the ale!" Stoick and Bertha shouted back.

The chiefs left their heirs alone on the docks. The real meeting would begin in the morning, but tonight the leaders would be drinking themselves silly in the preliminary discussions. The heirs used to attend these gatherings as well, but that stopped once the heirs started getting just as drunk as their parents. This unfortunate turn of events had forced the chiefs to be the responsible ones and take care of their charges. Since then, the opening feast had been limited to the adults.

"Hi, Hiccup," Camicazi called as she closed the distance between herself and the Hooligan heir. "We don't have much time if we want Grimbeard the Ghastly's treasure. If I'm right, we'll be able to burgal it and be back in our ships before anyone has time to sober up."

"Uhh… What are you talking about?" Hiccup asked.

"Burgling of course!" Camicazi shouted, before realizing that she was talking about stealing treasure and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm talking about gold. There's treasure here and I am going to be the one to take it! You can tag along of course."

"Oh, okay, but—" Hiccup tried to ask what exactly the rambunctious youth meant by Grimbeard's treasure.

"Great! You know, you're all right –for a boy that is."

Thuggory reemerged from the storage shed and began walking towards them. Oh, great. Hiccup complained to himself. He though that he was going to get away from bullies like Snotlout on this trip, but here was another big, grumpy looking behemoth of a boy storming towards him.

"Hiccup, this's Thug," Camicazi flung a hand at the Meathead heir. "He doesn't talk much," She whispered, leaning in towards Hiccup. When she pulled away she had a serious look on her face. Hiccup had learned that her serious looks were never a good thing.

"Thug, this is Hiccup. I can trust him to keep our secret."

"Hi, I'm—" Thuggory nervously began.

"You'll have to excuse him, he doesn't talk much," Camicazi snapped.

"But—"

"Almost never speaks," Camicazi clucked softly. "Such. A. Shame." She narrowed her eyes at the massive heir who cringed under her gaze.

"S…Sorry," He muttered while Hiccup sighed in relief. This Thuggory actually seemed like a nice guy; at the very least he was shy like Hiccup. That had to count for something.

"Anyway, let's get going!" Cami spun on her heels and began to slink away from the docks. She bent her knees and leaned forward, as if she somehow thought that made her less conspicuous. Hiccup shook his head and followed after her, sidling up beside Thuggory.

"I'm Hiccup," The Hooligan heir extended his hand.

"Thuggory," They shook hands and quickly affirmed their seemingly forbidden friendship.

"Why won't Cami let you talk?" Hiccup asked. It did not make much sense. The Cami that he knew had been controlling, yes, but she had never really seemed to care what Hiccup did so long as he wasn't jeopardizing her burgling.

"Umm… I…" The larger boy turned scarlet and ducked his head down. "I asked her what bosom meant."

"What? Why did you do that?" Hiccup tried to keep himself from laughing while the older boy turned an even darker shade of red and seemed to shrink into himself.

"Her mother said that she'd killed ten men with her bosoms –how was I supposed to know what that meant?" He tried unsuccessfully to keep his whispered outburst soft enough so that their leader wouldn't hear.

"Who said that you could talk?" Camicazi whirled around and glared at the two boys who followed her.

"Sorry Cami. I was just asking what bosom meant," Hiccup said before he could stop himself.

"Boys," Camicazi spat. "If I didn't need help carrying this loot…."

Camicazi trailed off. She didn't know what she would do. She liked Hiccup. He was a good accomplice, for a boy that is. He was quiet when she wanted him to be, usually that is. Camicazi didn't know what had gotten into the boy. He had never said anything like that before. She turned back around.

"Boys," She cursed. Why did they have to be so infuriating? Why couldn't they just follow her lead and not talk about her mother's… bosom… ugh. Camicazi hated that word. Especially when it was in association with her mother.

Thuggory finally looked back up from his shoes when Camicazi had started to lead them again.

"Thanks," He whispered to Hiccup who still was trying to figure out why he had stood up for Thuggory.

It wasn't like Hiccup owed the Meathead anything, and it wasn't like Thuggory had threatened him into taking the blame. There was just something about the boy that made Hiccup want to… be friends with him? It had been so long since Hiccup had ever felt that way towards someone. Ever since Fishlegs had that growth spurt he had been alone. Except for Gobber, but the blacksmith didn't count. Not really. He was more, paternal than a friend.

"Here we are," Camicazi gestured at the water.

They had reached the end of the dock, and they were standing on the edge of a small cliff. It was only a foot at most to the water, but Hiccup could see that the rock face dropped straight down from where they were standing. The water faded into darkness far down below them.

"Uhh… Cami… There's nothing here," Hiccup looked around carefully. There wasn't anything around them except for the storage shed, but Grimbeard's treasure was not going to be in there. Not unless he had a habit of keeping fish in treasure chests.

"Boys," Cami shook her head. "Just, follow me."

Cami jumped into the water and began kicking down into its clear depths. Thuggory shrugged, as if saying "we have nothing better to do" and followed. Hiccup paused. Fighting an internal debate with himself that he knew he was going to lose. He sighed one last time, and jumped in after his new friend.

* * *

My hatchling stifled a short yawn. It opened its green eyes and bared its teeth, and for the briefest of moments there was a twinkle of joy in its eyes. My little-two-legs looked happy! It smelled happy, and for the first moments of the sunrise it was just as Midgard should be, but then it looked at me, sheathed its teeth, clenched its mouth, and the glimmer of its eyes faded.

"No, no, no." I warbled. I was supposed to make my hatchling happy. It was supposed to be happy, not this! What type of guardian was I if my hatchling could not even look at me without falling into a pit of despair?

"I can fix this. I can fix this." I whispered to myself.

I pushed my snout against its chest and rolled my hatchling from my legs onto the ground. It grunted and complained, but did not get up. Instead it curled into a ball and draped its forelegs over its head to block out the light of the sun. It was not going to get to play this game again.

I bent my head low to the ground and pushed against my hatchling's back. It began to tilt, and with one last gently push I managed to roll it onto its stomach.

"But I'm still sleeping." It whined while I pushed it over again.

This time my hatchling landed on its back, its face was open for attack. I brushed against him, snorting and cooing as I groused my ward from the grips of Ginnungagap. I flicked out my tongue and lashed the side of its head.

"Hatchling," I growled softly. "Wake up –or I will eat you!" I flicked my tongue out again for emphasis.

"Ahh! I'm up! I'm up!" My hatchling bolted upright and quickly tried to brush my head away from its own.

My hatchling stood and brought a hand to its sticky face. It scrunched its eyes and groaned softly. A combination of disgust and anger roiled up from my little-two-legs.

"Yuck… Toothless. Please, never again. Okay?" My hatchling complained.

I sheathed my teeth and opened my mouth in the same manner that my two-legs did when it was happy and chuckled a low, pleased rasp. My hatchling groaned again, but bared its teeth in response. It quickly walked over to the tree line and when it returned, it seemed to have forgiven me.

"What was so urgent that you had to wake me up?" My hatchling grumbled.

I had a plan. Last sun, my hatchling had regrown my tail and it had climbed onto my back. Together we had raced around my cove. I had jumped and glided while my hatchling had laughed and shouted. I still had not achieved flight, but it had been happy.

I glanced at the pile of dead animal skin that my little-two-legs had been using to regrow my tail then glanced back at him, before looking back up at him. My hatchling paused, it seemed stricken by something. All of its earlier happiness drained away completely leaving my hatchling as an empty husk of despair.

"No, no, no, no, no." I cried out and cursed myself. What had I done wrong? Before last moonrise my hatchling had seemed ecstatic when it ran its paws along my repaired tail, but now the prospect of seeing me complete again seemed to have the opposite effect. My hatchling stood with its jaw agape.

"I can't help you," It whimpered. "I… I'm sorry."

The light tang of ocean water began to mingle with my little-two-leg's scent. It seeped into the air, dancing and turning with the other two-leg smells that I had come to expect of it until the dank mildew of guilt filled my nostrils. It sniffed, and quickly rubbed its paws across its snout.

"I'm sorry."

My hatchling turned and ran from my cove.

"Wait!" What had I done? "I am sorry!"

It was too late. My hatchling was gone. I lowered my head and released a long huff of breath. I was only making things worse. My hatchling had been happy. It had bared its teeth and had opened its eyes immediately this sunrise, and what had I done for it? I had driven it away. I had forced it back into its abyss of despair.

I turned away from the wall of stone and forced myself to gaze at my reflection. A lone Toothless stared back at me. Its eyes pierced my heart. Two green orbs of condemnation hung suspend in a sea of black: it was my fault. I did not know what I had done, but I knew that it was my fault.

I was a failure to the hatchling. I was a failure as a guardian. I was supposed to care for it; I was supposed to make sure that it was happy, but I was a failure. I closed my eyes and lowered my head until my snout almost touched the water.

"I am sorry." I whispered.

* * *

My hatchling did not return at moonrise. I sat on my rock. My eyes were fixed on the small crevice that it used to enter and exit my cove. I lifted my snout and tasted the air. Nothing. It was not coming. I had to say that I was sorry; I had determined this almost the instant that it had left me.

I had spent all the sun's light thinking about how I could make my hatchling understand my sorrow. I knew that I could not speak to it here it wouldn't understand me, and I couldn't force it to feel my emotions, so that left Ginnungagap. I could make sure it was safe there. I glanced at the rising moon.

It was not coming. I lowered my head and felt something catch in my throat. I had hoped… I had wanted to do this in dragon. I had wanted my hatchling to be under my wing, because then I would have known that it had forgiven me; at least to the point that it had given me a second chance, but… it was not coming.

It does not matter. I resolved. Even if my hatchling has not forgiven me, I still need to tell it that I am sorry. Even if it does not forgive me, I will have still have told it that… that I care about it.

I closed my eyes and extended my thoughts towards the nest of two-legs that my hatchling returned to during the day. Hundreds of thoughts and emotions pressed up against mine. I flicked from one to the next. None of these were my hatchling's thoughts. None of them smelled like him, and I could dismiss many without any inspection because they did not feel like my hatchling's thoughts; I did not think that it would be dreaming about eating a whole boar. That did not seem like it at all.

Finally, I stumbled upon it. Just as I was giving up hope of ever finding my little-two-legs amongst the storm of thoughts I found it. Its mixture of sadness and determination flooded through my mind, and I plunged forward, tossing myself into Ginnungagap and lost myself to my hatchling's consciousness.

* * *

Snotlout was bent over a small puddle in the forest. His black hair framed by a soft glow as the sunlight drifted though the leaves to greet him, but Snotlout did not see beauty in his reflection. He stared at it without really seeing. His gaze was fixed on the dirt that lay buried beneath three inches of water.

The wind skipped across the forest path, it caught up fallen leaves in its arms and spun them about as it danced past him, but Snotlout did not hear the peaceful whisper of serenity about him. His eyes were fixed on the quivering reflection; its mouth seemed to part and curl. Its lips spread and coldly whispered: "It's your fault she's dead."

"No," Snotlout sobbed.

"You killed her."

"No."

Snotlout shook his head, no. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. His mother died during childbirth, lots of women died that way it wasn't his fault. It wasn't. It couldn't be. The distorted face nodded back at him, "You're fault." His father whispered. "You're the reason my wife is dead."

The small boy lashed out, and hit the water, shattering the mocking reflection.

"Murderer," The bodiless voice whispered.

"No," Snotlout curled his hand into a fist and plunged it into the water, breaking the image for a second time.

"Murderer."

"I hate you!" The broken boy screamed and crunched his hand into the hard ground, again and again. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Snotlout's voice broke and he collapsed to the ground beside the pink water. The voice was gone.

He curled himself into a ball and cried. His shoulders heaved as he fought to maintain control. He was a Viking. Vikings do not cry. Vikings do not feel pain. They do not…. Snotlout felt his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath only to lose it again and gasp as pain lanced its way through his chest.

He wasn't a Viking. He was a nobody. He was useless. He wasn't going to be chief. He wasn't going to be a warrior. He was weak. He was a coward. He was afraid of his own father. He was –

"Snot?" Dogsbreath called through the woods. "Snot, where are you?"

Snotlout tried to hold his breath. He couldn't be seen like this. He was supposed to be better than this. Dogsbreath walked around the tree that Snotlout was hiding behind. He gasped, and knelt beside his friend.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I'm fine," Snotlout tried to turn away from him. He didn't want Dogsbreath to see his red eyes; he didn't want him to know that he'd been crying.

"No you're not." Dogsbreath sounded concerned. He wasn't laughing? Snotlout turned to look at his friend, he was confused. Why wasn't Dogsbreath running off to tell everyone how he had been crying? Why was he still here? Why did he look like he cared?

"Do you…" Dogsbreath paused. He didn't know what to say. This was the first time that he had ever seen Snotlout act this way; he had never seen him crying before, but then again, he had never heard anyone scream like Spitelout had been.

Dogsbreath had been walking towards Snotlout's house to see if he wanted to play, and he was about to knock on the door when he heard the yelling. Dogsbreath had frozen. He didn't know what to do. He waited outside of the door, his hand suspended beside the wood. Then, the back door slammed shut, and the yelling stopped. Dogsbreath knew what he had to do. He didn't know how, but Dogsbreath knew that he had to be there for his friend.

"… Want to… talk about it?" Dogsbreath seemed like he was also questioning himself as he asked his friend. Did he want to talk about what he had heard Spitelout saying?

"What's there to talk about?" Snotlout had regained a small amount of control over his body. He pushed himself up from the ground and sat cross legged beside his friend. He quickly brought a sleeve to his nose. "I'm fine, I just fell." He lied and gestured at the frayed skin on his knuckles. "Just hurt my hand."

Dogsbreath wrapped his arm over Snotlout's shoulder. Snotlout felt a knot uncoil in his chest, and he didn't push his friend away.

"Your dad's a bastard," Dogsbreath decided.


	3. Alone

**Disclaimer: All rights go to the marvelous Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.**

**I wanted to say thank you to all of those who have favorite, reviewed, and followed my silly, yet sad, story. Thank you: malderon11119, , travelerofadifferentpath, Berna45, Lily-D13, Loki921, OmegaBeast27, Raven Kight, Comet Moon, imacatdontmesswithme, **

**And lastly, special thanks to Driscoll for being a great test-reader.**

**Now, onwards…**

* * *

The tired boys practically fell out of the boat. It was well past midnight, and there was no reason for them to be up this late –none that the bleary-eyed boys could see at least. They were just coming back from their first fishing trip. Clueless had led the expedition, and unfortunately for the young boys, he was aptly named. Clueless had forgotten to account for the summer tide and the four hour long trip had been lengthened into a nearly twenty-four hour long catastrophe.

Hiccup shuddered as another breeze racked his small body. He looked around and noticed that Tuffnut and Fishlegs were likewise huddled against the cold; Snotlout and Dogsbreath had seemingly decided to test who was the manliest-seven-year-old by shedding their outermost cloaks and seeing who would be the first to complain about the cold.

"Right lads," Clueless clapped his hands to get the circulation flowing again. "sooner we get our catch unloaded, sooner we can get to bed."

The boys groaned. Despite the fact that Clueless was said to be the worst sailor to ever sail the archipelago, he somehow managed to be the best fisherman that Berk had ever seen. The young boys had managed to fill every barrel on their little boat long before they found their way back to the harbor. Clueless had insisted that the boys keep fishing, even after they realized that they were lost, and lo-and-behold the fish kept coming.

Hiccup and Fishlegs groaned as they trudged their way back onto the boat. Hiccup grasped one end of the net while his friend grabbed the other. Hiccup groaned again, this time in disgust. The rope had become slick and slimy from the small mountain of fish that it contained. Hiccup grimaced and tried to ignore the sticky residue that squelched beneath his fingers.

The two boys pulled against the weight of the net, only managing to lift either end partway of the deck while the middle still sagged and slid across the wood. The boys shuffled forward, their faces a mute red from the strain. Hiccup's arms began to shake and he could feel the net grate against his sore wrists as he curled them upwards in an attempt to keep moving toward the storage shed.

"Watch it, Useless," Snotlout rotated his shoulder and shoved his cousin as he carried a barrel into the shed. The slick net tore itself from Hiccup's grasp and spilled its contents across the deck.

"Ha! Can't even carry a fish!" Tuffnut yelled from the ship.

Like he was one to talk. Hiccup scowled. Tuffnut was being helped by Clueless. Clueless was the one doing all of the work really. He had hefted the net up into the air with one hand and was calmly making his way towards the shed while the blonde child was scrabbling at the deck with his feet in an attempt to keep his end of the net level with Clueless'.

Tuffnut was doomed to fail in this endeavor as Clueless was easily four heads taller than him, but Thor- bless-his-heart, he was trying his hardest. His arms swung drastically back and forth as the short boy tried to accommodate for his leader's gait, and he tried to stand on his toes so that his end could wobble slightly higher in the air.

"Pick 'em up," Clueless yawned as he quickly surveyed the scattered fish. "And Jorgenson, get the last two barrels. The rest of you can go home."

"But I didn't do anything!" Snotlout complained. "He fell! Why do I—"

"Because you pushed him," Clueless reached the storage shed and briefly disappeared. "I saw you do it."

Hiccup fought off a smile. Maybe Clueless wasn't so clueless after all.

"See ya' later losers," Tuffnut sneered, but ended up sounding more tired than annoying as he began the long walk back to his bed.

Dogsbreath quietly sat down at the edge of the pier; he was going to wait for his friend.

"Err… what's that?" Fishlegs had stopped his attempt at shoveling the fish back into the net. He was sitting back on his ankles with his head tilted at an angle while he quickly pointed at the sky.

"See?" The boy asked, leaning forward and squinting to get a better look.

"Get back to work, Ingerman," Clueless commanded.

Fishlegs bent back down and tossed another fish into the net, but he glanced back up into the sky. Their chaperone walked to the end of the dock and leaned out over the water. He tilted his head up to the sky and stared at the blinking stars. There had just been a raid last week. The beasts weren't due to come back this soon.

Clueless fixed his eyes on a patch of light. The stars twinkled calmly in the gentle night. He shivered, and folded his arms across his chest. The Ingerman boy had seen something. It was probably just a hawk, but one never could be too safe here.

"Great work, Useless," Jorgenson jeered at the chief's son.

"You hit me," Hiccup whined back. "You should watch where you're going."

A wrinkle of darkness slipped overhead.

"Raid!" Clueless bellowed and turned around. "Clear the fish then get to the shelter."

"Err…" The Ingerman boy stammered.

"Do as I say!" Clueless shouted. He quickly pulled his axe out from the small metal ring at his waist and charged towards the village.

"Raid!" He slammed his axe against a wall as he ran. "Raid!"

Hiccup, Snotlout, and Fishlegs scrambled to get the last few fish into the net. Dogsbreath ran towards them and grabbed a corner of the net. Together the four of them dragged the net the last few paces into the doorway of the shed.

Fishlegs dropping his corner. "Good enough." He mumbled.

The other three boys agreed, and dropped their ends as well. Hiccup slammed the door shut behind them while Dogsbreath and Snotlout pushed an empty crate to block Terrible Terrors from nudging the door open.

It's funny how raids do this, Snotlout thought. One moment you're about to toss your arrogant, good-for-nothing, useless cousin into the ocean, and the next you're working side by side to defend your food from monsters. The boys began running towards the nearest shelter. It was concealed half way up the cliff face, accessible only by climbing the long wooden ramp that wrapped its way up the nearly vertical slope.

Fishlegs stumbled and Snotlout hooked a hand beneath the smaller boy's armpit, dragging him back to his feet. Ahead of them the village suddenly erupted to life. Dragons swooped down, casting long bouts of fire onto the streets that illuminated the dirt paths in flickering flames; colossal braziers rose into the air revealing the swirling whirlwind of monsters that twisted and turned as they crawled their way through the once black night.

"We're almost there." Dogsbreath encouraged from behind Hiccup.

The boys reached the last building before the wooden ramp. A high pitched scream ripped its way through the air. Hiccup covered his ears and looked up fearfully into the black sky. A fireball exploded against a nearby tower, breaking apart into a wave of blue and purple. For a brief second, the tower hung suspended in the air while a gaping hole burned through its center. It creaked then shattered as the entire structure tumbled to the ground.

Fishlegs glanced nervously at the boys around him; the other boys had also gone to the ground in fright. They cautiously raised their heads, what the Hel was that? The scream sounded again, this time it was closer. It was coming right for them!

"Run!" Hiccup screamed.

The boys nodded vigorously and began the exposed climb up the cliff. The shriek ended and another tower fell. They were half way there. Just a few more seconds. The shrieking dragon tore its way over their heads and blasted the base of a brazier, causing the ball of fire to bounce across the ground and roll towards the ramp.

Fishlegs and Snotlout jumped into the safety of the shelter. The fireball crashed against the wood. Hiccup fell to the ground, Dogsbreath collapsed beside him. The ramp was on fire. Tendrils of flame began edging their way closer and closer to the cave's entrance.

The ramp shuddered again. The lower supports buckled and the wooden planks shattered as the tension caused them to snap in half.

"Jump!" Snotlout shouted. He and Fishlegs were standing on the platform by the cave's entrance.

Hiccup and Dogsbreath stumbled backwards. The ramp was sliding down the cliff, the wood scarped against the cliff and tore at the stone as it tried to cling onto the rock that had supported it for so long. A horrible screeching filled the air, Dogsbreath grasped Hiccup's collar and threw him into the air.

Snotlout and Fishlegs caught Hiccup's arms and fell backwards, pulling the boy to safety, and the platform gave way completely.

* * *

I shook my head, pulling myself from the tiring grip of Ginnungagap. That was not my hatchling either. The first hatchling I had tried had been one of its brood, and this hatchling… it had no relation to my hatchling. I was getting sloppy. No, that was not it. I was getting worried. My hatchling had not returned, and it was not sleeping. Something must have happened to it.

I swiveled my head away from the wall of stone and looked back at the small body of water. I forced myself to climb down from my perch and take a break from my search. My hatchling was fine. It was safe. The two-legs would not hurt it and none of my own kind had been back since I lost my tail fin.

I forced myself to believe that it was safe. I repeated the simple truth over and over again, but it was no use. I could not bring myself to relax. My defenseless-little-two-legs was out there all alone, I just knew it. Somehow the other two-legs had found out about us. Somehow they were hiding him from me. Somehow they—

I plunged my head into the icy waves and gasped at the shock, sending a torrent of air-pockets to swirl up around my ears. I withdrew my head and snorted to clear my snout of dripping water. I took a deep breath and dived back into the water.

I had to repeat the process two more times before I felt satisfied that my head was cleared of my foreboding thoughts. I paced away from the looming wall and approached the old log that marked the place my hatchling and I had first played together. The ruts that we had drawn in the ground still marked the site as an almost sacred place. Their faint outline crossed and zigzagged their way around the wood marker in a random display of simple pleasure. I pressed my snout into their tracks and inhaled deeply. The scent of my two-legs filled my nostrils. The light yellow of joy tickled its way through my mind and sighed contentedly before coiling myself into a small ball next to the log. It was going to be safe.

I closed my eyes and felt myself relax for the first time all moon; it was safe. My hatchling would be back in the sun-rise. It would be back, and I could apologize to it then. If I could find it in the Ginnungagap then I would go to it, but if it did not…

I yawned. It was safe.

It was safe.

* * *

A Zippleback rolled in front of Hiccup, its left neck had a long cut running down its throat and it writhed on the ground, gasping for breath, while the right head snapped and spit sparks towards an unseen foe. Hiccup quickly pulled back on the wooden cart that he was pushing, grinding its wheels into the ground as he turned it to a stop. This was not the dragon he was after.

Gobber leapt into Hiccup's view and brought his axe down onto the monster's neck. Its head rolled onto the ground and the Zippleback's body wriggled in spasms, its remaining head flung itself to the ground with a soft moan of pain, before finally, it stopped moving.

The large blacksmith turned.

"Ahh!" He shouted, and swung his axe at his young apprentice who fell backwards and covered his head.

"What are ye doing here?" His mentor shouted at him, after having just narrowly avoiding hitting Hiccup's newest invention with his axe; a mistake that he was already starting to regret.

"I am going to kill that Nightfury," The boy quickly replied.

"Oh, really? And just how were ye planning on doing that?" The blacksmith folded his arms. He was already dreading his apprentice's answer.

"I made this," Hiccup gestured at his bola launcher. Well, it was a mere prototype right now. It sat within the confines of the cart, it looked just like one of the catapults that lined the village, except this one was smaller, so that Hiccup could operate it by himself, and it would fire four bolas, instead of one large flaming boulder. He hadn't planned on using it tonight, but he would never pass on an opportunity for field testing.

"Ye'r going to get yerself hurt."

"No I'm not, I'll be far away from it when I shoot it down and I promise I'll come get one of you to finish the job if it's not dead after I hit it," Hiccup defended himself.

"Ye'r too young for dragon killing," Gobber switched tactics. The boy was still young after all, maybe he would listen to that reason.

"No I'm not! I'm twelve now, and my dad killed his first Gronckle when he was eleven so—"

"I said no," Gobber stated firmly. He was not going to be the one responsible for Hiccup getting himself killed.

"But I have to prove that I'm not useless!" Hiccup shouted at his mentor. He was angry now. "I have to make up for what I've done!"

Gobber looked stricken. "So that's what this has been about," He almost whispered. "Nobody's blaming—"

A Gronckle smashed its way through the building on their left, spilling smoke into the street, before the monster shook itself off and tried to escape from the gaze of the two–limbed smith.

"We'll talk later," Gobber called as he charged after the wounded dragon. "Do not go anywhere."

Hiccup hadn't heard him though. The young heir had fixed his entire attention on the flash of black that soared over the burning harbor, and towards the last two towers that stood as the beast's targets. The shriek of the Nightfury was calling him and he had to answer it. He had to prove that he could be a benefit to the village, he had to prove to his father that he wasn't a disappointment. But most importantly of all, maybe, just maybe, once he brought down the monster that had killed Dogsbreath all those years ago the angry knot of guilt would uncurl itself from around his heart.

As soon as his mentor left to kill the Gronckle, Hiccup began running towards the harbor, not even pausing as the Nightfury screeched a warning to stay away the instant before another tower exploded in a ball of plasma. That just left one tower. Hiccup tried to run faster, he had to get there before the last tower fell otherwise it would be impossible to see his foe in the darkness. Usually this wouldn't be a problem. Usually the dragon would land and then it could be fought and killed by axe or sword, but this rivalry was not usual. This dragon never landed, it never showed itself outside of the brief flash from its assaults, and this boy could not wield a sword, nor could he swing an axe. This was a rivalry that would not end in the hero facing the claws of death in a charge of valor, no. This story would end in a brief flash of vengeance.

Hiccup reached the edge of the wooden ramp that lead down to the docks. He quickly locked the wheels into place and pulled back on the small crank until the catapult creaked into firing position. All that was left to do was wait for the beast to attack the tower; then Hiccup would pull the small lever he clutched in his hand and it would all be over. The trap was set. All that he needed to do now was wait.

"Come on," He muttered. "Give me something to shot at. Give me something to shot at."

It was his mantra. If the Gods would just once let the beast show itself, then Hiccup knew that he could bring it down. Give me something to shot at. Give me anything to shot at. Give me something. Please, the boy begged. Please, give me something, anything that I could use to redeem myself.

The screech filled the air. A sound that had once filled his heart with fear now gave him a black hope. This could be the end. This would be the end. A flash of purple illuminated the sky. Hiccup jerked the bola launcher to the side, realizing too late that his design had not allowed him to compensate for the monster's speed. The launcher slipped to the side, sending its projectiles in a shallow arch over the harbor.

Most of the bolas landed harmlessly in the water, but one struck the mast of The Peregrine Falcon, Stoick's favorite ship, and snapped through the thick wood as if it were nothing more than a twig. The falling mast slammed against the shoreline and splintered again, its cross beam broke in half and the sail tore down its middle.

"No," Hiccup groaned. Why couldn't he do this? Why couldn't he kill a simple dragon?

"I thought I told ye to stay put," Gobber sounded cross.

Hiccup turned around slowly, dreading to see the ever-so-slightly disappointed scowl that his mentor would be wearing. His arm would be folded across whatever attachment his stump was currently using and he would be leaning back as he favored his remaining leg. It was a look that Hiccup had seen far too often; whether it was for ignoring the man's pleas for him to give up on killing dragons, or if it was for forgetting to clean the forge before leaving for the night. What Hiccup saw instead, was a look that wrenched his stomach more than that familiar frown ever could.

Gobber looked… sad. He finally saw what drove Hiccup to such lengths to kill the Nightfury. It tore at the large Viking's heart to finally know that there was nothing he could say or do to make the lad realize that he was not responsible for the death of Dogsbreath. Hiccup couldn't have done anything to save the boy. He told Hiccup this until the lad gave in and admitted the truth of the fact. But with this latest fiasco, Gobber recognized that Hiccup clearly still held himself wholly accountable for the incident and the grief it caused him was fueling a vengeance Gobber had never seen take residence in one so little. Gobber couldn't decide whose fault was greater: the boy for his deceiving his mentor, or his own, for not recognizing his apprentice's grief even after all these years. He was the only adult that didn't treat the lad like an annoyance. Sure he shouted at the boy, but no one else would even bother to give the little one a chance, and right then he felt like he failed the boy.

Hiccup cringed at the sight of his mentor's eyes. They seemed to stare through him. They did not see that he was trying his hardest. They did not see that Hiccup was doing everything he could to make Dogsbreath's sacrifice worth something. All that they saw was a failure.

"I just want to be like you guys." Hiccup whispered. Small tears were already forming at the corners of his eyes. He just wanted to be accepted by the village, that was all that he wanted, and that was the one thing he knew that he could never have.


	4. Revelations

**All rigths go to the marvelous Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks, aside from that I don't have anything really to add here, so**

**Onwards...**

* * *

I thought my little-two-legs was different, but it was not. It was just like all of the other two-legs. My hatch… no the two-legs was just like the rest of its kind. It was consumed by hatred for my kin…so why did it spare me? The calm reflection in my water asked. Why did it spare me?

I forced myself away from the unblinking green eyes. They were filled with accusations and confusing feelings. Their normally firm green stare had been replaced with a black abyss of questions that I did not have answers to. Maybe the calming allure of my log might bring peace of mind? No, that smelled like the hatchling. Maybe the far side of the lake? No. My entire cove is infected by its scent. There was no escaping it, the rolling blue of the two-legs' sadness mingled throughout the deep lines of yellow marking the path we made when we first played.

I exhaled slowly and brought my head back to rest near the water, allowing the two-legs' stale scent to muddle through my snout. Think. I tried to push aside my feelings and concentrate on facts. Think. You are a Toothless, you can do this! I had seen many of my kind kill many two-legs, and I had seen a bigger hatchling die in front of the small-two-legs in the Ginnungagap. It blames me for its brood's death, but there was also rage not directed at me. The two-legs blamed... itself?

I sat upright with this realization. It blamed itself for the larger-hatchling's death. But then why had it been so obsessed with killing me? Unadulterated shame had rolled from the hatchling when it had talked to the missing-leg-two-legs in the Ginnungagap. And the missing-leg-two-legs had been worried about it. It had seemed sad to see the hatchling trying so hard to kill me.

I needed to know more. The other two-legs seemed happy to be killing my kin; to them it seemed like a rite of maturity. I had seen many two-legs proudly standing over my fallen kind, screaming enthusiastically towards its own who would raise their forelegs and echo its cry. Maybe killing my kin was to the two-legs what jumping off a cliff was to dragons. You had to do it to become one of the flock. But if this was true then why did the missing-leg-two-legs not want the hatchling to participate?

Why would the hatchling not be accepted into the two-legs-nest? If it could kill one of my kind, then would that not solve all of its problems? It would have been accepted if it had killed me so then why didn't it…?

It did not matter. The hatchling had clearly tried to kill me before so I could not trust it to not try again, but that had been before. According to the two-legs, I had killed its nest-mate, so it was right for it to try to kill me.

"No," I pulled my head away from the water, and made the short leap to my sleeping-tree. I could not think clearly while inhaling its scent and my lake had too much of it there. I could not be agreeing with the notion of a two-legs' killing my kin, especially not when it was the miniscule-two-legs.  
I wrapped my tail around the tree and hung upside down. My brow furrowed in anger. I could not make sense of what I had seen; the hatchling held me responsible for the death of a nest-mate, and it expressed shame when it failed to kill me. But, why had it spared me when it found me in the vine? Unless…

It had something worse planned! I should have seen that before I saw it in the Ginnungagap. I cannot believe I let this two-legged get close enough to me that I actually thought of it as my hatchling! While I was busy playing with it, it was busy thinking of a way to hurt me worse than death! I thought that it had been using its two-leg-magic to fix me, but what if it was learning how to somehow make my life even worse.

My tail tightened, cracking the wood trapped in my grip until it snapped and I fell the short distance to the ground below.

"Really," I roared at the sky. "Why do you hate me?"

A feathered-snack flitted into my vision, distracting me. It flapped its wings and turned a slow arc over my cove as it searched for prey. A small blast of my breath escaped my lips before I even heard my own snarl. The feathered-snack disappeared with a squawk of fright, leaving behind only a few smoking feathers that slowly tumbled down into my water. I rolled my shoulders and warbled contentedly. That made me feel better. I turned to inspect the other trees; maybe there were more feathered-snacks to hit.

I froze.

The hatchling stood at the small hole it used to access my cove. In its forelegs was a pile of dead skins. This time though, the pile was substantially larger. The two-legs dropped my fin pieces in a pile, but held onto a new addition. It was a long piece that had several looping pieces attached to it.

"I made a saddle," It began. "Now you can fly without me falling off."

It took a step forward and I arched my back and growled softly. "I am not sure if I want a two-legs around anymore."

I still did not know what to think. It was trying to get its cruel-two-legs-claws on me again, but it did not seem cruel. It was still sad, there was no trace of fear in its scent, nor could I detect any signs of the two-legs-hiding-talons that they usually gripped in their claws.

It took another step. I leapt away, and quickly found myself on the other side of my lake. The two-legs was not where I had left it. It was running towards me, the dead skin bouncing in the air as it held its possession in the air and chased after me.

I snorted in alarm. It really was going to kill me!

I ran. It would have been easy to simply end the two-legs' life with my breath but it had saved me once, I would spare it once: a tooth for a tooth. The two-legs continued to run after me, but it was… laughing? It was happy.

"Toothless! Wait."

I glanced back over my shoulder. Its teeth were bared. My tongue lolled loosely from my mouth in excitement. My hatchling was happy! I could not explain it. I cannot explain what I had done to make my little-two-legs forgive my past transgressions, but seeing that it was happy; it was not going to kill me. How could I have ever thought that? Seeing that it had forgiven me for making it sad last sun-rise, and knowing that it could look at me and still bare its teeth in happiness somehow purged my mind of all doubts. It was my hatchling again. It did not matter what it had done in the last snows. If it was still trying to help me, then it must not care what I had done. Forgiveness for forgiveness: it was mine now, and I would protect it. I would keep it happy.

I whirled around and leapt at my hatchling. It was my turn to chase it. My little-two-legs shrieked in joy and dropped its skin, which I scooped into my mouth as I raced after my happy prey.

"Toothless, what are you—" I cut its protest short, pushing my snout through its legs and tossed it over onto my head, and jumped clear across my lake, returning us to the pile of skins that it had left by the entrance.

My hatchling stumbled to the ground, and spread its forelegs for balance as it tottered towards the pile. Sitting back on my haunches, I swished my tail impatiently while it fumbled around with its vines and skins. I was eager for it to do its two-legs-magic.

"I was up all night making this," It hummed proudly. "Now I'll be able to stay on your back while you fly."

It picked up my new fin and gestured for me to stand up. I complied and offered my tail to it. My hatchling ran its claws down my scales, causing me to shiver slightly as its soft talons tickled my spine.

"Stop that." I trilled.

"The new one works the same way," It continued, not sensing my pleasure. "And I haven't made any changes to the pulley system yet. I want to see how you like the saddle before I make any mechanical adjustments to it."

My hatchling pushed and pulled at the vines until my tail was complete again then it retrieved the skin that I had deposited in front of me. I allowed it to scurry around me as it first draped the hard skin across my back then began to twist vine-like-animal skins underneath my chest and forelegs. It was uncomfortable, but I resolved to not complain about it to my hatchling.

I failed at this resolve.

"It's itchy," I moaned, and lowered my head to try to nibble through the constricting skins.

"I know it's itchy bud, but just give it a couple hours. You won't even notice it then. I promise."

I looked up at my hatchling. It clearly did not want me to bite at its work. Hopefully it would stop itching by moonrise. I sighed and bobbed my head in agreement, mimicking my hatchling's actions.

"So, you ready to fly?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, okay," My hatchling grumbled as we walked back to my cove.

We had flown this sun. Well, sort of. It was just gliding really. I had jumped us out of my cove with the assistance from the two-leg-magic, and we had done a series of short glides and practiced with my little-two-legs riding its "saddle." The first half of the sun had been spent with my hatchling pulling its vines at various times to experiment with how would interact with my flying, and each time we would plummet out of the sky, my little-two-legs would converse with me in its strange tongue as we returned to our testing position. I still had no idea what its grumblings meant, but talking to me made my hatchling happy, so I played along. Bobbing my head and crooning at what I thought were appropriate times.

I jumped into my cove while my hatchling disappeared into the small crevice that led it down below. Once it made it through the stone wall, it approached me and removed the vines and skins from my back.

"I won't be able to come back tomorrow," It whined softly. The yellow aura that had surrounded my hatchling deepened in color and became blue, but this time I knew that it was not my fault.

I tried to fight off my happiness. It was sad because it wanted to stay with me! I wasn't a failure to my hatchling, it liked me, and it was happy when it was with me. It felt like Midgard had been lifted from my back and I could finally relax again. I would see it again next-sun!

"But I'll be back in two days," It glanced at the pile of skins. "I'll have some changes by then, and we'll be really ready to fly."

My little-two-legs gathered its skins and left. It stopped at the top of the wall of stone that separated us and looked back down at me. Its shoulders were slouched, a breeze sent a wafting wave of sadness down upon me, but its lips curled back as it barred its teeth in a false display of happiness. My little-two-legs turned and headed back to be with its own kind.

I sighed and breathed onto the ground, curling my head beneath my wings.  
"I will see you again next sun," I whispered before drifting off into Ginnungagap.

* * *

Snotlout was crying, and he did not care who saw him.

"I'm gonna miss you." He whispered to his only friend. He stood at the front of the large crowd that had gathered along the shore. The entire village had shown up; Dogsbreath was getting a hero's funeral, he was already up in Valhalla. Laughing it up with Berk's greatest warriors and drinking ale with the Valkyries.

Snotlout sniffed, dragging a hand beneath his nose. Dogsbreath… he closed his eyes and willed it all to disappear. He wanted –he just wanted his friend back. Snotlout slowly raised his eyes, his prayer to Odin went unanswered. Dogsbreath's small ship was still floating slowly out into the sea. His friend was still dead. He was still alone.

Uncle Stoick stepped in front of Snotlout. He began talking about how Dogsbreath was going to be missed, but that everyone should praise his name, for he was the youngest Viking to ever receive such a funeral. Snotlout didn't listen though. To him, it did not matter that Dogsbreath had died saving a fellow Berkian, let alone a future chief. All that mattered was that his friend was dead and his cousin was alive.

Four bright lights entered the air as archers shot flaming arrows at Dogsbreath's ship. They embedded themselves in the solemn wood and ignited the oil-soaked rags that lined the inner deck. Soon all that was left of Snotlout's only friend was a small tangle of smoke in the wind.

The crowd dispersed behind him. They were off to repair the shambles of that remained after last night's raid. At last he was alone on the shore.

"Goodbye," The boy whispered

He turned and started the infinitely long walk back to his village. It wouldn't be the same without his friend. Who was he going to hunt trolls with in the forest? Who was going to help him train to become a warrior? Who was going to tell him that he wasn't stupid… that he was valued?

"Stop your crying," Spitelout stepped in front of his boy's path.

"Sorry," Snotlout sniffed again. He quickly bunched his hands into little balls and wiped at his eyes and nose.

"Sorry, what?" Spitelout crossed his arms, and raised his voice so that his son cringed.

"Sorry, sir," He mumbled, still trying to stop crying. Snotlout sniffed again.

"I said stop your crying!" Spitelout stepped closer to his son and lowered himself so that he was staring into his red eyes.

Spitelout could not allow his boy to be seen like this. If he was going to be the next chief he would have to prove himself a better Viking in every way. He was going to be the strongest, the toughest. He would not cry. Real Vikings did not cry. They rejoiced when their shield-brothers fell in battle. They took pride in knowing that they too would one day die in glorious battle. Real Vikings did not cry.

His boy tried to wipe away the line of snot that ran down to his lip. He wasn't going to stop. Spitelout lashed out with his hand, and cuffed Snotlout on the side of the head. His boy fell over and lay sprawled on the ground. He didn't get up, but instead kept his head down in the sand.

"Damn it boy he died a hero," Spitelout growled, reaching down and grabbing his boy's arms and dragged him back onto his feet.

"I hate you!" Snotlout screamed.

Spitelout pulled his boy in close, tightening his grip until his knuckles were white. His face was turning red; he clenched his jaw, and fixed his eyes on his disappointment of a son.

"Asta would be ashamed to call you her son," He growled.

Spitelout released his son, and walked back to the village. His wife had died giving birth to that disappointment. Asta's last words had been about how sad she was that she wouldn't see their little Snotlout grow into a great man. She had died thinking that he was going to be something. That he could do anything, and look at him now. He was useless.

Snotlout pushed himself up from the sand. His father was right. He wasn't a Viking. He wasn't brave or fearless. He….

He was alone. Snotlout pulled his legs against his chest and turned his back on the village, so that he was looking back at the fading smoke of his friend. What was he going to do now? Snotlout gently pressed his left hand against the side of his cheek. Dogsbreath's mother used to do this to her son. She would kneel down in front of him and place a hand on his cheek and tell him that he was the best part of her life.

Snotlout closed his eyes and held his palm against his cheek, imagining his mother. To him, she was a comfort. She didn't think that he was stupid, or a disappointment. No, she was proud of him.

"What do I do mom?" he asked the ghost.

She didn't answer. She never did. Instead her lips curled in a slight smile. She knelt down in front of her beloved son and placed a hand on his cheek as if he were the most important thing in her life. Her thumb slowly traced the outline of his jaw while her blue eyes sparkled like the stars at twilight. She loved him.

Snotlout opened his eyes. His mother disappeared, leaving him on the beach to cry in solitude. He lowered his hand. He didn't care about the tears that streamed down his face; he didn't care about being a Viking, or about being the next chief. He just wanted to be accepted by his father, that was all he wanted, and that was the one thing he knew that he could never have.


	5. Exploits

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.**

**Special thanks to RollingUpHigh, Obnivelent, Marauding Lemur, Rozoe9, srigby, forestshasow, and Dixia for clicking favorite and following my story.**

**Anyways, Your support has been great.**

**Onwards…**

* * *

"Hey, Useless!" Hiccup groaned. It was Snotlout. He had hoped that by leaving the great hall early he could avoid his brute of a cousin.

"What do you want Snot?" Hiccup turned around slowly. Let's just get this over with, he added silently to himself.

"Oh, nothing," His cousin reached an arm around Hiccup's shoulder and guided the boy off of the main road, heading away from his house. "I just never got a chance to tell you how great of a job you did last night."

Hiccup cringed. He had made a mistake during the raid last night. Hiccup had been on his way to the shelter when he stumbled upon a Nadder who had its back turned to him. It wasn't his Nightfury, but maybe killing it would ease some of his guilt. That had been Hiccup's logic anyways; he pulled out his knife and tried to sneak up behind the dragon –only to end up getting in the way of his father and Clueless as they were getting ready to kill it. Suffice to say, Hiccup alerted the Nadder, who may have burned down a house or two, and Stoick may have yelled at him in front of the whole village.

"I tried," Hiccup mumbled, trying to dislodge his cousin's loose grip from around his head.

"I know you did, but you see… that's the problem," Snotlout pushed Hiccup out of the alley and stopped him in front of the tanner's shop. "We don't want you to try and fit in."

Snotlout smiled as Hiccup tried to remain passive throughout this engagement. It felt good to be in control.

"Yeah… well, that's great and all…" His cousin began, "But if that's all, I'll just be going."

Hiccup tried to slip out from under his cousin's grip again. Snotlout twisted his hold so that Hiccup's back bent, and the young heir was now looking at the ground. Snotlout would decide when Useless could leave.

"Look, snot, can't we just get to the hitting part already?" He couldn't see his face, but Snotlout knew that his cousin was smiling that stupid bucktoothed grin he had. "I'm tired, you're tired. Why not—"

Snotlout ripped Hiccup back into a standing position and punched him in the stomach. He was in charge. He was stronger.

"And… there we go…" Hiccup coughed. Snotlout punched him again, this time knocking the boy to the ground. Snotlout crouched over his cousin and leered down at him.

"You are nothing," He spat.

Hiccup was still smiling! Snotlout felt his hatred grow. He was still smiling. Hiccup was still happy. Hiccup was stronger than him. He kicked his cousin. No. He was stronger. Another kick, Hiccup's smile faltered and the heir rolled to his side. He was the better Viking. He pulled his foot back to kick again—

The stars flipped over Snotlout's head, his foot was kicked out from beneath him, and he slammed his head against the tanner's wall as he fell.

"What's your name?" A small girl was standing above him. Her blonde hair cascaded up and around her head in a tangled mess. Snotlout shook his head. He didn't have any idea who the girl was.

"I…" what happened? He was beating up Useless, then he fell, and then… who was this girl?

"Boys," The girl rolled her eyes. "Here, let me help you up."

Snotlout smiled, tonight was getting better. He reached up and grasped the girl's hand. She returned his smile, and twisted his wrist sending a shot of pain throughout his hand. Snotlout staggered forward, trying to release his hand from her iron grip. She used the momentum to spin him around and kicked him in his backside to send him sprawling down the alley.

"And don't come back!" The girl laughed and turned her back on him.

"Boys," She muttered. "Can you believe 'em?"

Hiccup looked up at his savior. Behind her Snotlout stood frozen as if debating whether or not it was worth the trouble to stay around. He decided it wasn't and tried to walk away, only to have his trousers fall down to his ankles. His hands shot down and he hoisted them back up, waddling away from them.

The girl laughed, and glanced back at the fleeing boy. "Too easy," She twirled his belt around once before looping it over her shoulder.

"Uhh… thanks," Hiccup murmured.

This girl was weird. Her hair was a mess, and Hiccup could swear that he had never seen her before, but she had saved him from Snotlout, so she couldn't be too bad.

"I'm Camicazi," The girl extended her hand. "Don't worry, I only hurt boys," She added quickly. Hiccup eyed her hand carefully.

"Uhh…" Hiccup took the proffered hand and got back to his feet. It would be in his best interest to be on his feet when this feral girl found out he was actually a boy.

"Psst… now's the time you tell me your name," Camicazi leaned in towards Hiccup.

"Uhh…" Hiccup didn't know what to say. Camicazi thought he was a girl. Should he lie?

"Uhh. Well, I can't say that's the best of names but hey, beats what I hear the chief's son is called."

Hiccup lowered his eyes; he could feel his cheeks turning red. He was going to lie.

"No, uhh... my name is B—"

"Oi! Hiccup, there ye are," Gobber rounded the corner. Hiccup cringed, and spared a glance away from the blacksmith back towards the girl. She was gone. Hiccup spun around. Where did she go?

"Hiccup. I'm over here," Gobber shook his head. Honestly, he didn't know about this plan of Stoick's. He didn't have anything against the boy himself, it was just… well, the boy was a disaster. And Stoick wanted him to be his new apprentice.

"Uhh…" Hiccup glanced back to the blacksmith.

Gobber crossed his arms, carefully folding one beneath the iron hook he was currently wearing.

"Listen, I'll just get to the point. Yer father wants you to be my new apprentice. Thinks it'll keep ye out of trouble or something like that. Show up at my forge before noon and I'll get ye started. Questions?"

The boy sighed. He was used to being told what to do. "No," He muttered.

"Good," The blacksmith continued on his way. He was not looking forward to the morning.

Hiccup sighed and leaned back against the tanner's wall. He was not looking forward to the morning. He didn't want to work in the forge. Gobber would make him sharpen axes all day, and Hiccup wouldn't be able to get any time to himself.

A soft tutting sound snapped Hiccup out of his thoughts. He turned back around and peered into the alley, the girl had reappeared. She had her arms on her hips and she shook her head slowly back and forth, clucking like a chicken in mock disappointment.

"You lied to me," Camicazi accused.

"No I didn't," Hiccup tried to explain himself. "I never said that I wasn't a boy."

Camicazi took a step forward and prodded Hiccup with one of her fingers. She scrunched her face and tried to glare down at Hiccup. She stood up on her tiptoes, but her eyes were still only level with Hiccup's nose.

"Listen here, you were going to lie to me though. That means that you owe me… luckily, you can make it up to me."

Hiccup wondered how peculiar this situation must look to anyone who passed by. The only thing that kept him from laughing was the deadly serious glare in the girl's eyes.

"Whatever you need," He mumbled, nodding his head furiously.

"Good." Camicazi rolled back from her toes and walked past Hiccup onto the street. "Follow me."

Hiccup watched the girl walk away from him. Who was this girl? There was no reason for Hiccup to follow her; he could simply let her walk away. She wasn't even looking back to see if he was following. He could lose her by simply standing still. And yet, Hiccup still found himself reaching out towards the mysterious girl.

"Wait!" He whispered. "Ca—" What was her name again? Cami-something. "Cami, where are you going?"

The girl didn't turn around. Instead she shook her head, "Boys," and continued to slink away from Hiccup.

He looked behind him, checking to see if there was anyone around that could explain who this Cami girl was. Unfortunately, Hiccup had no such luck. The street was completely deserted. Giving into his curiosity, Hiccup followed the girl.

"Who are you?" He asked when he caught up to her.

"I'm Camicazi," She said slowly. This boy was certainly slow. She thought to herself.

"No, I mean who's your father? What does he do?"

"I think he's dead," Camicazi tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. "Oh, well." She bounced her head back straight and continued onward. "But my mom, she's Big-Boobied Bertha."

"The Big-Boobied Bertha?" Hiccup stopped. She was the chieftain of their rival tribe, the Bog-Burglars.

"Yep, that's mom!"

"So then…" Hiccup trailed off. What was she doing here?

"Yep, I'm the Bog-Burglar heir. Now, hurry up. I don't have all night."

Hiccup started walking again. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm following that blacksmith guy. I need to burgal some things from his shop."

"No. I mean Berk. Why are you here?" While he waited for her answer Hiccup briefly thought that it was strange how he didn't even question her answer. 'Oh, we're just going to burgal Gobber's stuff.'

"Stoick kidnapped me."

Oh, well that answers that. Hiccup thought to himself. I mean, it was perfectly natural to kidnap a young girl and just let her wander around your village while you awaited the ransom.

"So then why are you just walking around?" Hiccup asked. Didn't they have a prison or something?

"Can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. Especially not me," Camicazi jammed a thumb against her chest for emphasis. "Now then," Camicazi paused, and eyed the forge. How could she do this? "Here's the plan. You talk with the smith while I burgal stuff. Got it?"

"I don't think—"

"Good." Camicazi ducked away and disappeared into the shadows.

Hiccup sighed. What did he have to lose? Cami had saved him from Snotlout after all. The least he could do was distract Gobber for her. He took a deep breath and walked into the forge.

Gobber was sitting at his desk, a small wooden thing that had been crammed against the far wall. Gobber had turned his chair around and was leaning it back against the empty desk while he stared at the slowly fading embers of the fire.

"Hey, Gobber." Hiccup approached the blacksmith.

"Didn't expect ye till mornin'," Goober said, rocking back from his reclined position to get a better look at the boy.

"Uhh… I wanted to know what I'd be doing," Hiccup said. It was true enough. He was curious what Gobber would have him be doing in the morning.

"Eh… you know, detailing and what not. I can't do the finer stuff due to me hand." Gobber twirled his hook in the air absently. "So, you'll be mainly doing leather-work for a while. I may have you do some cleaning as well, but you won't handle anything sharp for a while."

"So I won't be sharpening any axes?" Hiccup asked.

"Don't sound so disappointed boy!" Gobber laughed and stood up, reaching over and putting a large hand on the boy's shoulder. "Here, let me show ye around."

Hiccup caught a glance of Cami as she climbed in through the window. She nodded and silently crept towards a pile of tools.

"How do you keep the forge going all by yourself?" Hiccup asked. He knew how, but the answer was outside, and Gobber would have to leave the room to show him.

"Eh, you know. I manage. But it'll be easy now that I've got an apprentice!" Gobber laughed again. "Ye know, I think that I'll like having ye around."

Gobber slowly guided Hiccup around the small forge. He concluded the tour where they had begun, with Gobber slumping back down into his chair. "And this is where I sit to pass the time. Any questions?"

Hiccup shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow," The new apprentice said, and left the smith. He was actually looking forward to the morning now. Working the forge wasn't going to be anything like he had expected. And who knows? He may even start to like building stuff.

Gobber shook his head as he watched his best friend's son leave his workshop. He was actually looking forward to the morning now. Having that boy working the forge wasn't going to be anything like he had feared. Who knows? Stoick's boy might not make a half-bad apprentice.

Cami ambushed Hiccup as soon as he was out of Gobber's sight.

"You know, for a boy, you're pretty good at this."

Hiccup blushed. "But, I didn't do anything," He protested. He really hadn't. All that He had done was talk to Gobber, and in all honesty Hiccup was grateful that he had. Now that he was actually looking forward to the morning he might be able to get some sleep.

"You're right. I did most of the work after all," Camicazi laughed. "But, I have to get back. They're gonna notice I'm gone sooner or later." Camicazi looked around her, there was no one here. Good. She took a step closer to Hiccup. "You're pretty alright… for a boy." She smiled, and ducked away, disappearing into the shadows. Once she was out of his sight, Hiccup leaned back against the nearest wall and released a long sigh.

Tonight had been interesting to say the least, but it was a good interesting. There was something about that Cami he liked.

* * *

Hiccup sputtered and shook as he pulled himself out of the water. Cami had been right, there was an underground cavern beneath Meathead Island, but Hiccup wasn't sure if the swim was worth it. As he looked around himself all that he saw were the faint outlines of Cami and Thuggory. The only light in the cavern was that of a few glow dragons, and those were quickly fleeing the presence of the human intruders.

"How are we supposed to see?" Hiccup asked as the last glow dragon escaped into its burrow.

"Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup," Camicazi knew that the boys couldn't see her shaking her head in disappointment, so she made sure to sound extra-condescending. "Didn't you look around? There's only one passageway. All that we have to do is follow the wall."

"But what if we get separated?" Thuggory brought up a very good point. What would they do when they got separated? And they were going to get separated. That was the sort of thing that happened in dark, scary caves. You got lost.

"You two can hold hands."

Camicazi's footsteps echoed around the chamber as she approached the nearest wall.

Hiccup reached his arms out in front of him and shuffled his way sideways until he felt the cold stone of the cavern. He kept his left hand on the wall and started to walk forward. His hand created a soft rasp as it glided over the wet stone. This wasn't so bad. Maybe Cami was right, if there was only one passage then they couldn't really get lost. His hand fell from the wall and he stopped. Suddenly he wasn't so sure that he could trust that there was only one passage.

"Cami?" He whispered. "Cami, did you go into this passage?"

"**BOO****!**" Camicazi grabbed Hiccups shoulder's from behind.

Hiccup jumped, and screamed.

"Why would you do that?" He gasped.

Camicazi didn't respond. Instead she shrugged her shoulders. Why wouldn't she have done it? Never pass up an opportunity to scare someone, especially if that someone is a boy.

"Let's get on with it." Camicazi walked past Hiccup and entered the passageway. Thuggory bumped into Hiccup, and muttered an apology.

"It's okay," Hiccup whispered back.

"Why are you whispering?" Camicazi called from the front of their line.

"I don't…" Hiccup stopped himself from whispering again. "I don't know."

He didn't know the etiquette for burglaring. He thought that to steal stuff you had to be sneaky, and to be sneaky you had to be quiet, so wouldn't that require whispering?

The trio continued in silence for another minute. The only sound was that of their shoes bouncing off the floor and their hands dragging across the stone. Finally it was Thuggory who broke the silence.

"So… what do you guys do in Berk?"

"Fight dragons," Hiccup replied. It was the official Berk pastime after all. It was all that they did really.

"Oh, that's cool." Thuggory didn't sound very impressed.

The Meathead's were far enough away from the nest that they only got raided about half as much as Berk did. It was still enough for them to dislike the beasts, but it wasn't enough for them to truly hate them. Not like the Berkians did.

"What about here?" Hiccup asked.

"Depends on my father's mood; usually it's axe throwing, but there's a lot of drinking too."

Thuggory was still trying to understand Hiccup's answer. Each tribe had their own thing. His tribe had their ale, the Bog-Burglars had their burgling, but the Hooligan's just had dragon fighting? He couldn't believe it. What did they do in between raids?

Camicazi gasped ahead of them, Hiccup froze, and Thuggory bumped into his back, muttering another apology. A gurgle had pervaded the air, filling the silence with a steady thrum as something ahead of them moved beneath the rock.

"There's a gap," Camicazi called back from the darkness ahead of Hiccup.

"How far is it?" He asked back.

"Gimme some time," Camicazi shouted back. She had not come all this way to be stopped by some stupid hole in their path. Arrgh! It was too dark! If only she had some light, then she could see how far it was and figure out how to get across. She kicked the wall in frustration. The sound of her shoe colliding against the wall –that was it!

"Take off your shoes," She ordered the boys behind her.

"Why?" Thuggory asked.

"Who said that you could speak?" She snapped back. She still hadn't forgiven the stupid boy.

Hiccup sighed before echoing the other boy's question. "Why do you need our shoes?"

"I can see both how far the gap is, and how far down it is to the water by tossing them across."

"But then we won't have shoes," Hiccup pointed out.

"We won't have treasure if you don't give me your shoes," Camicazi argued. Honestly, could these boys not think anything through?

"But—"

"Treasure or shoes?" Camicazi yelled at them. "I choose treasure. Now give me your shoes."

The two boys complained, but sat down and began to pull off their shoes. Thuggory passed his to Hiccup who gave them to Camicazi who set all six shoes in a neat pile by the edge of the possibly wide hole in the floor.

Camicazi picked up one of the pairs, it felt like it was too large to be Hiccup's, and reached her arm out over to what she hoped was the other side and released her grip. After a short pause there was a loud Ker-plunk, followed by the drizzle of water against the stone wall of the chasm. Okay, so the gap wasn't too deep. That was good, at least now if the boys fell they wouldn't die. Now that would be a shame.

"How deep is it?" Hiccup asked from behind her. There was no reason to not keep them on their toes though.

"I can't tell," She replied, a wide smile spreading across her face. "But it sounds like it's a huge drop."

Her smile broadened into a full mischievous grin as she heard Hiccup gulp behind her. Boys. They were too easy.

Camicazi picked up another shoe, this one was Hiccup's and gave it a light toss into the darkness. A soft thud echoed back. "It's not too far of a jump."

"How do we decide who goes first?" Thuggory asked.

"I still haven't given you permission to speak," Camicazi shouted from the other side of the gap. "Now hurry up, I haven't got all day."

"I'll go next," Thuggory volunteered.

"Jump as far as you can." Hiccup suggested. He didn't think that his new friend would have any trouble, but it was better to be encouraging. After all, Hiccup knew that he was probably going to need some encouragement to make the leap.

Thuggory took a deep breath and jumped. A moment later Hiccup heard Cami yelp as the larger boy fell against her.

"Your turn," Camicazi said.

Hiccup slowly edged forward until he could feel the passageway drop off beneath his toes. You can do this, he thought to himself. You can do this. You are a Viking! You can jump this possibly-endless-chasm-that-may-or-may-not-lead-to-Hel. Hiccup gulped.

"Come on Hiccup," Camicazi encouraged.

"You can do it!" Thuggory cheered.

Yeah, I can do it! Hiccup cheered sarcastically back at them in his head. He knew that he could do it, it was just… he couldn't get his legs to believe that they could do it.

"Hiccup, if you jump right now, I won't slap Thuggory again." Camicazi said.

"But you haven't—"

_Slap!_

"Ow! Why?" Thuggory whimpered from the other side.

"I dunno. Encouragement?" Camicazi offered.

Hiccup bent his legs, he could do this. He swung his arms forward and leapt across the gap. His legs scrapped against the edge, and he collapsed forward.

Thuggory helped him back to his feet.

"What now?" Hiccup asked.

"I think we're there," Camicazi said. "Feel this."

Hiccup took a few steps forward until he was standing beside Cami. He reached out his hand and brushed against an iron ring. There was a door.


	6. Hurt

**Disclaimer: all rights go to the spectacular Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.**

**Let me know what you guys think about this chapter. I really appreciate the PM's and reviews**

**now, onwards...**

* * *

"Ok, but I hit a Nightfury," Hiccup added quickly.

"Get him back home," Stoick roared at Gobber.

"No, dad, listen to me. I hit it. It's by the western tower. Just, please –" The boy continued.

"Gobber!"

"Coming!" Gobber called out. The large blacksmith was stuck behind a wall of onlookers who were watching the unfortunately usual sight of their next chief being yelled at.

"You're not listening to me are you?"

"Not now Hiccup."

Hiccup sighed. He was used to their one-way conversations.

"Let's go lad." Gobber placed a hand on Hiccup's shoulder and began to guide him away from his father.

"But I hit a nightfury," Hiccup complained.

"Oh, really?" Gobber was surprised.

This was not the first time that he had been tasked with taking a reluctant Hiccup home, but it was certainly the first time that Hiccup had ever claimed to have actually succeeded in his experiments. Usually their walks were either completely silent, or Hiccup would be trying to tell his mentor how it would work better next time.

"Yes! My bola launcher worked this time. We just need to… you don't believe me, do you?" Hiccup stopped walking and Gobber's hand slipped from his shoulder.

Hiccup watched as his mentor struggled to find his words. It was something that Hiccup liked about him; Gobber always thought about what he was going to say. If it was something serious that is. He would still be the first to make a joke, and end up making a fool of himself most of the time, but if he wanted to say something serious…

Gobber looked at his apprentice. He had never lied to him before. Well, not about anything like this. There wasn't any harm in investigating a little before taking the boy home.

"Alright, lad, where's the beastie?" He asked.

"You mean you believe me?" Hiccup's face lit up, and he smiled with actual happiness for the first time in a long while.

Gobber shrugged. "Don' see why not."

He knew his apprentice well enough. If Gobber didn't take the boy to the tower himself, Hiccup would sneak out to see it. And if Hiccup did that… It was much, much, easier for Gobber just to take Hiccup there. This way Stoick wouldn't have to yell, and Gobber wouldn't have to get yelled at, and everyone could maybe start the day off without having the well-known sound of Stoick's disappointed sigh.

Gobber really wished his friend wouldn't sigh like that. Especially not in front of Hiccup. Stoick didn't know it, but Hiccup always assumed that his father's sighs were directed at him. That's not to say that they never were, Thor knows his apprentice had made a mess of things more than once, but usually –usually Stoick's sighs were directed at the world in general. He had so much life in him, he just couldn't figure out how to live it. He used to know, but it seems the dragons took that away too when they took Valka.

That broke Stoick. He didn't leave the charred remains of his house for a full week. Gobber had been the one to finally piece him together again; it had taken nearly a full keg between the two of them, but Gobber managed to get Stoick to speak. It had only been six simple words, and yet they still haunted Gobber's thoughts.

"Why do the Gods hate me?" His best friend had rasped.

Stoick didn't blame the dragons for Valka's murder. He didn't blame Hiccup for his size. He blamed the Gods. Stoick did not hate his son, he hated Odin. He hated the Norns.

And Gobber had tried to get his apprentice to see this. He had tried telling Hiccup that his father loved him and that Stoick really cared for who he was as a person, but the young boy never listened. He was just like his father in that regard. Only heard what they wanted to. And Hiccup… Hiccup wanted to hate himself. Gobber still cringed at the thought that Hiccup, that his wonderful apprentice, was still haunted by the death of that boy all those years ago.

It wasn't Hiccup's fault that the supports fell. It wasn't his fault that Dogsbreath had saved the boy's life rather than his own. And it wasn't Hiccup's fault that he couldn't kill the damned Nightfury responsible for it all. No Viking could! The thing might not even have a body for all that they knew.

And yet the boy still held himself solely responsible for each of his so called failures, for each of his father's sighs. He held himself responsible for everything that could possibly be wrong in his life. And Gobber held himself responsible for every time the young smith could not see the beauty that his talented hands created. Gobber held himself responsible each time Hiccup looked at him with those empty green eyes of his.

"You won't be disappointed," Hiccup snapped Gobber out of his thoughts. "This is going to fix everything," He whispered to himself, carving another scar into Gobber's heart.

Oi… my boy… there isn't anything to fix. He thought to himself. Their acceptance can't help you! He wanted to scream at the stupid boy. The only mind you need to change is your own.

"Hiccup, there isn't anything—"

"Just wait. We aren't at the tower yet."

"No, I don't care about the dragon."

"You'll see it!"

"Ye aren't listening to me are ye?" Gobber sighed; Hiccup was just like Stoick.

"I can't believe it either." Hiccup looked up at his mentor with a smile, Gobber could almost swear it was a real one this time.

* * *

Hiccup couldn't believe it. He had done it! It was dead! Well, hopefully, at the very least Gobber could take its head with his axe, but he had done it! The bola launcher worked. The monster had been brought down, and with its death Dogsbreath would have peace. He would be avenged, and maybe his ghost would leave Hiccup alone. His memory would fade and Hiccup could get to sleep without seeing his face. Maybe after he hung the monster's head over his mantle he would be able to rest without fear. He would be able to look his father in the eye, not as a useless member of the tribe, but as an equal.

It had finally happened! His dream, his distant hope of acceptance was about to be realized. All that stood between him and his new life was a dozen paces. A dozen more breaths until everything would be fixed. A dozen heartbeats until his broken heart would finally, miraculously, joyously be healed. Not even another night of fitful sleep stood before him and his new freedom.

He still couldn't believe it. Anything could have gone wrong. Up until now, everything always went wrong, but this time –this time everything had been perfect. The gears could have jammed, but they didn't. Another dragon could have attacked him, but none did. One of the other villagers could have sent him back to the forge, but nobody interrupted. Nobody had gotten in his way. For once the Gods seemed to be smiling at him. Everything was going to be better.

"Everything is going to be different now," Hiccup smiled again. The small flickering flame of hope that he had so carefully held onto was finally here.

They arrived at the tower. The morning sun was just beginning to rise above the mountains that overshadowed Berk. It was fitting, Hiccup thought, seeing how the sun was rising on this new day, and on his new life at the same time.

"I don' see it," Gobber sounded disappointed. He had hoped that his apprentice was telling the truth. If the boy had managed to kill the beast, then maybe he would be able to finally forgive himself.

"But it was right here," Hiccup mumbled.

He had seen it. It had just shot at the tower, and it had been illuminated by the small inferno. Hiccup had been right there, he pulled the lever, and the bola lashed out. He saw it strike the passing shadow. He saw the monster as it fell; he heard the bone crack as it slammed into the ground.

"Gobber?" A voice coughed from somewhere amid the ruins. "Can you hear me?"

"Spitelout?" Gobber called back.

Spitelout grunted an affirmative.

"What happened?" Gobber began to make his way through the ruined tower, following in the voice of the chief's brother.

"Some damned idiot snared me with a bola," He groaned.

Hiccup's heart sank.

Gobber glanced back at Hiccup. He had to help Spitelout, but then he was going to have to talk with the young boy.

Gobber almost tripped over Spitelout. The chief's brother was lying in a tangled heap of rope and stone. One arm was pinned against his chest while the other was bent behind his back. Oi, Hiccup. Gobber cursed silently. Stoick was not going to be happy about this.

Hiccup left when his mentor descended from sight. He wasn't going anywhere. Not in particular. He just didn't want to go home. He just wanted to be alone.

Useless.

He wasn't going to be accepted. He wasn't going to be forgiven; he wasn't going to be anything other than useless.

Useless.

Hiccup had been a fool. How stupid could he be to honestly think that things could change? How could he possibly think that he could kill that monster? How could he ever amount to anything other than just being the whipping post of the village?

Useless.

It had all been a lie: his hope of a better tomorrow, his gentle prayer that today might actually be a happy one, his fervent request that he could be a somebody, anybody, useful. It had been a lie. Hiccup was a lie. He was pathetic. He was absolutely worthless to everyone, even to Gobber. Gobber. The one person who Hiccup thought might care for him; Gobber, the one living thing one this Hel forsaken isle that he could claim to be a friend –even Gobber had given up on Hiccup.

Useless.

When Gobber had turned around, when he had stared at Hiccup with that look of complete disappointment and hopelessness… that look might as well have killed Hiccup. But it didn't. Gobber's look of disappointment did not kill Hiccup, it barely hurt him. And that… that was what Hiccup hatted the most. He wasn't sad, he wasn't angry, he wasn't driven to prove his mentor wrong. He was empty. He was useless. He accepted that now, just as he had come to accept the misery of the night. The tear stained sheepskin, the salty crust that he had to peel from his eyes in the morning, and the red eyes that he had to hide from his father; he accepted all of these things because a simple truth that wore at his soul until there was nothing but a void: he was useless. Not wanted, not loved, he was useless and there was nothing could ever change that.

"Hey, Useless," Snotlout loomed out from the alley.

"Not now Snotlout," Hiccup mumbled. He wasn't in the mood for this. He couldn't even muster his signature buck-toothed smile.

"What was that?" Snotlout put a hand to his ear and tried to wrap an arm over Hiccup's shoulder.

"I said not now," Hiccup repeated louder, sliding out from his cousin's grasp.

"I don't think you remember how this works, useless. I put my arm on your shoulder, and you do as I –"

"I said fuck off!" Hiccup yelled.

Snotlout lashed out with his hand, striking the weaker boy and knocking him to the ground, and for the first time ever, his cousin didn't get back up.

* * *

"Oh, come on. Let me out, please?" Hiccup begged. He was in a good mood tonight, and he blamed Gobber for that.

"No," Gobber shot back. He had finally, finally after all these years gotten the boy to open up to him. He was not going to risk losing him to the beasts. Not tonight.

"Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better," Hiccup pleaded while carrying more replacement swords to the window for pickup.

"I said no."

"Why?" Hiccup demanded, heading back for more weapons. Bola's this time.

"You can't lift a hammer, you can't swing an axe, you can't even throw one of those," He gestured at the tangled mass of rope and stone in Hiccup's arms.

"But that will throw one for me," Hiccup pointed at his bola launcher."

"Get back to work."

"But –"

"Swords. Sharpen. Now."

Gobber smiled as he turned away from his apprentice. They hadn't argued like this in a long time. It felt right. Maybe he had gotten through to the boy earlier today. Maybe Hiccup's life was finally starting to look up.

A Nadder plunged into the building directly across from the forge. It rose shakily and screeched a challenge to those around it, sending out a flurry of spikes from its tail and spat a brief spout of fire at those nearest to it.

"Man the fort, Hiccup. They need me out there!" Gobber replaced his hook for an axe and charged into the raid. His apprentice was going to be fine. For once, he might actually stay put. For once, Gobber was confident that his apprentice was willing to let his demons rest. He was going to be fine.

As soon as Gobber's hook was replaced with an axe, Hiccup knew that tonight was his night. He was going to get that Nightfury. He was going to kill it, but he was not going to go outside for his own personal vengeance. He was not going to go out to prove that he was not responsible for Dogsbreath's death; his only goal was to earn his father's forgiveness. He was going to make up for all of his past mistakes. He was going to prove that he could change.

Hiccup grabbed his bola launcher and wheeled it out into the chaotic streets. He dodged around the swirling dance of dragons and Vikings as they twirled and leapt about him, completely oblivious to the small child who ran between their feet and wings.

The dark smudge in the sky shadowed the stars as it glided in a slow circle above the village. Hiccup watched his foe fly, he breached the edge of the village and angled his path towards the cliff. From there he would have the perfect shot if the monster attacked the tower.

Hiccup reached the apex of the slope. He fastened the braces and primed the launcher to fire. He stood, breathless, hunched over his machine. He was not breathless form the climb, but was rather struggling to contain his excitement. It felt good to be doing this again. To feel in charge of something. To be part of something instead of just looking at it from the outside.

He was part of Berk's defense. He was going to help his village. He was going to kill this monster.

"Give me something to shoot at," He chanted. He just needed on shoot. One shot and it would be over. He was ready.

The monster's screech broke through the silence of the cliff, and a purple blast of plasma shattered against the tower, a black blur twisted through its wreckage. Hiccup fired. The monster screamed, this time in pain and fear, and the shadow that had plagued the village for so long plummeted to the earth.

"Yes!" Hiccup cried. "Did anyone see that?"

A nightmare answered his call, slamming its foot down on the launcher that had granted Hiccup's freedom.

* * *

It was my turn to pretend that I was asleep. My hatchling had done this to me. I had briefly considered the possibility, but… it was my hatchling. Even when I thought that it was plotting to kill me I never thought that it had been the two-legs responsible for my fin. I had never though that it was possible. It was my hatchling. It was my little-two-legs.

A paw gently scrapped against my tail. I didn't want to look at it. My hatchling, could I still even call it mine?

Yes?

No.

I don't know. It had crippled me. It had trapped me on the ground. But it was giving me flight again. It had restored my fin, it had given me food, it had left itself at my mercy, and… it felt remorse for what it had done. It felt bad for crippling me.

I opened my eyes and looked at my hatchling. It was curled against my side, one of its paws rested on my mangled fin. The other was draped over its mouth. The deep blue scent of remorse and pain wafted up from every pore of its small body. Its eyes flicked up to meet my own. They shimmered in the light of the sunrise. Small puddles of sea water clung to its cheek.

"I did this," It whimpered. "I did this to you."

I did not move. I did not make a noise. I could not, my hatchling's eyes had petrified me. They had trapped me in their soft glow.

"I… I wanted to be like everybody else. But they didn't want me. They never wanted me to fit in. Not since... I had this friend. He died in a dragon raid, and for the longest time I blamed myself for his death. I thought that if I killed you, then maybe I would feel better. So…I tried. I devoted my entire life to killing you, and when I thought I finally succeeded. When I finally managed to defeat the great monster that I had hunted for so long… I felt great. I had finally done it." It gasped. A slight rasp that shook its entire body in a shuddering breath. "When I had finally managed to hurt something else. I… I felt..."

My hatchling looked away from me. Its eyes cast down to my tail. "I felt like I was the worst thing in the world. I wasn't useless anymore, I had ended a life. I was a monster. I was a murderer. But then, I saw your eyes. You looked at me, and I saw myself. I saw what I had become. I saw the knowing fear, the hopelessness of being utterly and completely alone, and I knew –I knew that what I had done was unforgivable. But I was so grateful that you weren't dead. When I walked up to you, I thought that I couldn't be redeemed. Seeing you alive though… I thought that maybe….

At least I hadn't killed you."

My hatchling looked back up at me. Its green eyes had become ringed in red, puffy-pink sacks had emerged around its eyes and the puddles of sea-water around its eyes had broken into long streams down its cheeks.

"Then, I came back. I saw that you were still here. I saw that instead of killing you, I had crippled you. I saw that I had done something even worse. I… I…."

My hatchling faltered. Its warbling ceased, and instead it had begun panting. Short rapid breaths as the water poured from its eyes. I could not stand to see my hatchling this way. I snuck my neck forward and closed my eyes, rubbing my head into its chest.

"It is okay," I crooned. "I forgive you." It did not matter why my hatchling had done this. It didn't matter what it had done before meeting me. All that mattered was that we were together. I nuzzled my head upwards along its chest, and rubbed against its wet cheek. I flicked out my tongue, and lapped at the salty water.

My hatchling pushed against my head. "Toothless, not now," It began and stood up. My little-two-legs started to walk away from me.

I snorted. I was not going to let it leave again.

Before it could blink I was back in front of my hatchling. I crouched before it, sitting back on my rear legs, and extended a foreleg out and drew my hatchling into my body. I ducked my head and tried to completely envelope it in my embrace in the same manner that I remember the two-heads doing to me so many snows ago. "It is okay," I purred, vibrating my whole body in a singular message of comfort. My hatchling shuddered against my scales, its chest fighting to match the rhythm of my own breath. "I love you." It came out like a whisper, startling myself.

Did I mean that? I did not view it as a mate, but it was true, right? These last suns, these last moon cycles it had become everything to me. I had fed it, played with it, and comforted it to the point where it had become my hatchling. And was that not love? Was that strange, inexplicable, unconditional devotion, love? I –loved my hatchling. That was it. I could not tell when it happened, but I knew that I loved him. I loved my little-two-legs. He was all that I had left in Midgard. He was everything to me, and I would give anything to protect him.

"I love you," I repeated, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

"I love you, Toothless."

* * *

**I promised a few chapters ago that Hiccup's life would start to get better. I think its time, don't you?**


	7. Affection

**Disclaimer: all rights go to the fabulous Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.** T**hank you arzir, walker2702, and DeanJoFourTrisPertemis for being kind enough to favorite/follow my story.**

**And a special thanks goes to Driscoll and Le'letha for being awesome.**

**Now, Onwards...**

* * *

"I love you, Toothless."

I closed my eyes and pulled my hatchling closer into my body. A new scent was rising from my little-two-legs; it wasn't sadness or joy, but… acceptance. Peace. Love. For a moment, my hatchling accepted who he was. He was happy to be himself, so long as he was enveloped in my embrace, he could forget about his past.

We stood together, his whole body pressed against my warm scales as I purred in bliss. I squeezed him closer to me –I did not want to let go. I could not let go.

"You're not going to eat me are you, bud?" My hatchling said something from within my wings. I pulled them back so that I could see him better.

"Thank you," My hatchling rolled his shoulders. "I love you, but I love breathing more," He paused, flashing his teeth back at me. My hatchling sighed, his teeth were still bared though, so it was a contented sigh.

"I wish you could understand me, because then… I could tell you how much you mean to me. I could tell you how you gave me a reason to live again."

I nodded my head encouragingly. I liked hearing my Hatchling make noise. It was nice; I cannot explain it, but hearing his voice just seemed right. Even though I could not understand what was said. I know that doesn't make any sense, but who says it has to?

Our alpha's bond cannot be explained. The queen's control cannot be explained, so why should love need to be explained? Why can we not just leave it as something incomprehensible? As one of the unfathomable mysteries of our lives that has no logic because it denies our very reason? Love –our bond, our life, our secret, a forbidden friendship that defies the laws of nature? Why should we dilute our connection with comprehension when our emotions are the purest expression of our being?

I did not wish that I could understand my hatchling. I yearned to know more about him that was true, and I desired to fully experience every moment with my hatchling, but I did not want to spoil our perfection with words.

"Sometimes I feel like you can understand me though. You'll look at me, nod your head, sigh, smile,"

I crooned, emphasizing my hatchlings thoughts with my own expression of joy.

He laughed. "and croon like that! But, deep down I know that you can't understand me. I know that you are just an animal, but I also know you're more than that. You are smart and compassionate; you are my best friend."

My hatchling reached forward and scratched his talons beneath my chin, causing my eyes to roll up into my head in pleasure.

His talons danced and tickled for several minutes, and when my hatchling finally released me from his two-legs-magic, I felt exhausted. My whole body tingled in rolling waves of excitement, my scales screamed for more while my lungs panted for reprieve from the cooing and purring.

I folded my wings to my side and lay down in front of my hatchling. He followed me down and leaned his back against my scales, producing something from within the folds of his fur; it was a small piece of hide with wood-leaf strips stuck in between. I had seen my little-two-legs produce this mysterious object before. He would stare intently at it, occasionally dragging a stick across its surface every now and again.

The scratches of my two-leg's stick on his leaves were the only sound that broke the silence of our sunrise. I closed my eyes and purred. The sun was warm, my hatchling was happy, everything was right in Midgard.

When I opened my eyes again, my hatchling was still scratching with his stick. He looked down at me, and stopped scratching.

"You're awake," He bared his teeth, his eyes flashed between my own and his two-legs-hide-leaf-thing. "You want to see my drawing?"

I retracted my teeth and mimed my hatchling's curled lips.

He pulled his two-legs thing away from his body and set it in front of me. My eyes widened. It was a reflection of us, but at the same time it was something else. It was not a true reflection, it did not show my hatchling and me sitting on the ground, but it reflected us. Only my neck and head could be seen on the leaf, but my hatchling was shown from his chest up to his head. His paws rested on either side of my head, almost pulling me in closer to him, while his head was rested on my snout. Our eyes were closed and we held perfectly still.

I did not dare move. I could not disrupt the perfect reflection that was set before me.

"It's us," My little-two-legs said. "It's supposed to be at least." He turned the reflection away from me, and set it back on his lap. "I still need to fix a few things."

My hatchling looked up at the sun, he folded his two-legs-hide-leaf-thing and returned it to his fur.

He sighed, "I have to go."

My hatchling stood and began making his way out of my cove. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He disappeared through his crevice and reappeared on the top of the wall of stone. He paused, and turned back to me. Raising a foreleg in a gesture of farewell, he backed away from me. The pure yellow of his scent became muddled with a slight tinge of blue. It was not the pure misery that my hatchling usually had when he left, but was instead a sour note of longing –he wanted to stay.

My little-two-legs vanished into the trees.

"I will see you next sun," I whispered up to him.

* * *

"You ready to fly today?" My hatchling sounded excited. He had raced into my cove earlier than usual this sunrise, and he had repaired my fin with two-legs-magic immediately. The sunrise had barely ended and he was already attaching himself with small vines to my back.

I lowered my forelegs, I was excited as well. Something good was going to happen this sun, I just knew it. I practically bounced up and down in anticipation. I could feel my tongue hanging out from my slack mouth, but I did not care. My hatchling was excited and that was reason enough to act like a hatchling myself.

"Whoa, bud, calm down. Let me get on first," My hatchling laughed.

I jumped towards him, lowering my head and gesturing at my back.

"Get on my back," I warbled happily. "Hurry up! Hurry up!"

My hatchling complied and climbed onto my back. I waited until he patted the side of my head.

"Ready?"

With that signal, I started towards the wall of stone. I took a bounding leap, gliding to the top. My little-two-legs used his magic to keep us aloft, and within an instant we found ourselves on the lip of my cove. My hatchling and I had been gliding a lot over the last moon-season. We still had not actually flown yet, but my little-two-legs was getting more excited after each moon. These last few suns, my hatchling had connected a vine to a tree and we had floated as he attempted various two-legs things. We had been met with mixed results. At one point my silly hatchling broke his own magic and we had to travel to his two-legs nest to fix it.

I turned towards our floating-tree.

"No, Toothless," My hatchling protested from my back. "I thought we could fly today. My cheat sheet is done, and Gobber always said it's best to learn on the job. So I thought we might as well go flying."

I looked back at my hatchling. He was pointing with his foreleg at the cove. He wanted us to stay here this sun. Why? Unless… did my hatchling want to fly?

And I mean actually fly. Not that gliding thing that we have been doing.

"Are we going to fly?" I asked him.

He nodded as if he understood me.

"I thought that we could try jumping down from here. It should give you enough time to spread your wings, and I think it would be easier than just starting from a standing position. What do you say, bud? Are you up for it?"

I looked back at my cove. He wanted to fly for the first time here? No –no, this would not do at all. I put my back to my cove and began walking through the forest.

"No! Toothless! Where are you going?" My hatchling's paws starting clawing at his vines. "Where are you going?"

"We are going to do this right," I chirped back to him.

"Uhh… bud, I don't know what that means," My hatchling slipped from my back.

He ran around to my head where he placed a paw on my snout.

"Toothless, we should go back to the cove."

I sighed. My little-two-legs had no idea what it meant to fly for the first time –to really fly for the first time. All of our past attempts at flight had been controlled glides. Hatchlings did these all of the time, but your first flight… that was what made you a dragon. Your first flight was when you leapt from a cliff, only to rise back up with the upswing of sea-water air. It was when you would spiral through the air, worm your way through towers of stone, dance in a twisting spiral as you ascended into the divine air.

"You need to do this off a cliff," I tried to explain.

"We need to go to the cove," My hatchling repeated, gesturing with his foreleg back at my cove.

I mimicked his action, pointing towards the ocean. "Cliff," I argued. "I am the dragon. I know what I'm talking about."

"We can't go out there. I'm sorry, Toothless, but someone could see us. My dad is supposed to be back any day now, and I can't risk us being spotted."

I rolled my eyes and sheathed my teeth; I snuck my head forward and clamped my jaws on my hatchling's fur, picking him up and continued on towards the cliff.

"Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile," My hatchling grumbled.

When we reached the cliff, I set my hatchling back on the ground.

"Please, don't do that again," He complained. "I don't think your spit will wash out of this."

I warbled a laugh. My hatchling… he was not going to be my hatchling for much longer. He was about to fly for the first time!

I sat down, lowering my head and gesturing again towards my back.

"I told you bud, it's too dangerous," He set his paws against my scales and tried to push me back towards the cove.

I did not move. Instead, I whispered to him, "It's okay to be nervous," He was afraid that we would fall. That his two-legs-magic might fail again, but that was preposterous. Together we could do anything. We could fly anywhere, and do anything that we set our minds to. "but we will not fall. I trust you."

My hatchling looked nervously back over the cliff, down towards the water below.

"Well, I don't see any ships," He said to himself. I nudged his back, encouraging him to climb onto mine.

"It would not be a test if it was not scary. The test is looking that fear in the teeth, and flying anyways."

My hatchling looked at me. "I suppose a short flight wouldn't hurt anybody. But it has to be quick though, okay? Promise?"

I ducked my head again, giving my hatchling access to my back. He was ready. My little-two-legs pulled himself onto my back, and I took the last few steps to the edge of the cliff.

"Ready?" I asked him.

"Let's do this!"

* * *

"Everything we know about you guys is wrong." My hatchling –no, he was not a hatchling anymore –my little-brother. That was better. My little-brother. I had always wanted a family, and now… I had one. I had my brood-love.

He was covered in those annoying-little-bug-eyed-pests. They jumped around him, nuzzling against his forelegs and chest, trying to replace me as his dragon. As if! They could never replace me. I was my brood-love's Toothless, just as he was mine.

Another of the stupid-bug-eyed-pests attempted to claw her way onto my little-brother's lap. I bared my teeth and growled a low warning causing the little dragon to back away slowly.

"Toothless," My brood-love scolded.

He seemed to like having the annoying small dragons climbing over him, and I carefully considered letting them continue their encroachment without any reprise. In the end, jealousy won out. I shifted lazily, pretending to rise, and yawned.

"I am sooo hungry. If only there were more fish…" I looked around me in an exaggerated display. "…ohhh, well. I guess I'll just have to eat—"

The small pack took off. I chuckled. I would never eat another dragon, even one as aggravating as those bug-eyed-pests.

"That wasn't very nice," My little-brother complained, but he was baring his teeth and he still exuded an aura of yellow, so I knew that he was still happy.

I settled myself back to the ground, rolling my shoulders into a comfortable position and rested my head in the now empty lap of my little-brother. We had flown this sun. It felt good to finally be a part of the air again, but the joy that I had experienced had been nothing compared to that of my little-brother's. He had screamed when we first plummeted from the cliff face, but that shriek of terror quickly rose into a cry of laughter as we ascended back into the sky. All of his fears had dropped into the ocean below. In the air, when we were completely alone, he was whole again. No more nagging doubts of inadequacy or slumbering fears of failure, he was rapt in the euphoric moment of our flight.

My little-brother shifted below me, I opened one eye and looked up at him. He had produced his two-legs-hide-leaf thing. He rested it gently on the back of my head and was busy scratching at it with his stick. I closed my eye again and purred a low note of contentment. My brood-love was happy, so I was happy.

The scratching of the stick stopped, and was replaced with a scratching paw on my head. I rocked my head, scratching back at the quivering talons.

"Tired from the flight, huh, bud?" My brood-love asked.

I crooned a soft whistle and click at the sound of his voice. I could stay like this until Ragnarök.

"Yeah, I get that," He mumbled, lifting his paw from my head while the scratching of the stick resumed.

"I don't get it. Why do we have to be enemies? I know that we're not enemies bud, but why do dragons and Vikings have to fight?" My little-brother continued, the scratching stick punctuating his words. "It doesn't make any sense. Something must have happened a long time ago. I just… don't you wish that other people could see us together? I almost wish that Fishlegs would follow me to the cove one day. I bet that I could convince him that dragons can be friendly, and then after I convinced him, maybe even Astrid would listen to us, then I could get Gobber, then maybe even…"

I looked up at my little-brother. His teeth were bared, he was hopeful for our next suns, but when he looked back down he saw my eyes and his lips curled back over his teeth.

"Just wishful thinking. I know that won't happen, even if I got everyone else to accept you, dad…." He trailed off. For a moment it seemed as if all my hard work would collapse, my brood-love would falter and degrade back into his misery. "I'm happy with just the two of us. I know that I can't change things, not yet anyways. Maybe when I'm chief –oh, there's a terrible thought! Maybe when Snotl –nope, that's even worse. Maybe when Astrid takes over, maybe things can change then."

I brushed my head against his chest, pushing aside the hide and leaves, and rubbed my head into his chest. Purring, "I will always be with you."

My little-brother laughed. "You want to see it?"

He put the two-legs-hide-leaf-thing in front of me. I snorted in jealous alarm. The reflection had changed! I no longer saw myself and my little-brother on the leaves. My little-brother was still there, but instead of holding my head, he held one of those traitorous-bug-eyed-pests on his lap. Aside from the smudged wall of scales behind my little-brother, I was not in the reflection at all!

I jumped to my feet, causing my little-brother to fall back onto his back. His hide and leaves fell from his paw, and I swept my tail forward, pulling it away from him and towards me.

"Hey!" My little-brother cried. He tried to get back in front of me, but I blocked my new two-legs-hide-leaf-thing with my wings.

"Be careful with that!"

"Where am I?" I cried back through the black membrane that separated us.

I pressed my snout to the leaves, trying to smell myself amongst the hide. I pulled my head back and snorted in frustration. Where had I gone? The leaves fluttered and my eyes widened. I snorted again causing the reflection to lift partway from the ground. I exhaled sharply, aiming my breath at the edge of the hide, the leaf flipped over, revealing another reflection. This one was of a two-legs, it was standing with its forelegs crossed over its chest. I turned the leaf again; this was a reflection of me. I was sleeping with my tail draped over my head, hiding my eyes from the sunrise.

I liked this reflection better, but it was not the one I was looking for. The next leaf turned over. This was it! The reflection showed me and my brood-love. He held my head in his paws, and had his head pressed against my snout.

I unfurled my wing, allowing my brood-love access to his hide-leaf-thing.

"Together," I crooned. "No one else. Just us."

"You like this one?" He asked.

I pulled my wing over him and nudged him closer to me.

"Together," I repeated.

I gestured at the reflection, then closed my eyes and extended my head so that the false reflection became real. My brood-love paused, then his paws closed around my head and he rested his own on my snout.

"Together."

* * *

**I hope you like this chapter. It ended on a happy note for once! But in any case, thank you for reading. In regards to Toothless' use of the word _love _I believe that Le'letha said it best in her brilliant _Nightfall:_**

**"Because someone will ask, when Hiccup and Toothless use the word love to and about each other, it's not sexual or necessarily romantic, although the depth and emotional/spiritual passion of the very best and most intense romantic relationships are certainly very present. **

**Having said that, if reading this as non-platonic makes you happy, I am not policing your brain. It's your brain. I am OK with you reading it that way, and if you want to tell me that you're reading it that way and I'm successfully hitting buttons I will be OK with that too. I'm told buttons are nice. Embrace your buttons. But this story is T rating and it will stay there."**

**I can't recommend her story enough. **


	8. Poltroon

**Disclaimer: All rights go to the good Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks**

**Thank you to everyone who has left reviews and clicked favorite. **

**Thank you: Iceberry2666, Dragon Hanner, TimTam4Life, SapphireWolf2002, Tanzi, and Flickerflame17**

**And lastly a special thanks to my test-reader, Driscoll, who was more like a co-writer for this chapter. **

**Onwards...**

* * *

Hiccup chased after Cami. "Wait," He whispered. "Where are we going?"

"I'm going home." Camicazi whispered back. She was ready to go home. Staying on Berk had been a nice vacation, but she missed the gentle swaying of the deck beneath her feet. It was time for her to leave.

"How do you plan on doing that?" Hiccup managed to catch up to her.

"Figure I can burgal a ship pretty easily."

"Can you sail one by yourself?"

"I'm a Bog-Burglar!" Camicazi gestured at herself, raising her arms to fully display her glory. "I can sail anything by myself."

"But –"

Cami flashed Hiccup a smile, cutting his protests short. She was going to sail off into the night. Hiccup shook his head and continued in the footsteps of the heiress. It was hard to believe that she was leaving. She had only been here for two days, but it had felt like months. So much had changed since he had first met Cami. He started working at the forge and discovered that he was actually good at it. No, not just good, he was great at it! For the first time in his life Hiccup had found something that he was more than just okay at.

He was even good enough to surprise Gobber, and Hiccup was already detailing the sword hilts and scabbards. His new mentor even went so far as to offer to teach Hiccup how to build a scabbard from scratch. And after tonight… Hiccup's father was proud of him!

That was why he had to catch up to Cami. Stoick had caught them eavesdropping, and Cami had disappeared while Hiccup tried to explain that he was just on his way out of the house. Cami had waited for him. Sort of, she slowed down at least; Hiccup knew that she could have made it to the docks by the time that he managed to extricate himself from his father and Gobber, but she hadn't. Instead she had meandered along the alleyways, allowing him to catch up with her.

The docks emerged in the darkness ahead of them. The new moon above cast no light down upon the soft waves that lapped gently against the shore. They did not have to worry about guards. No one on Berk ever watched the shores. Watching the skies for dragons was much more important.

Camicazi danced ahead, skipping forward as she flitted from ship to ship. She could sail anything, that was true, but a smaller vessel would be easier to control. What she needed was something that was small, but also impressive looking. That was actually more important. She wanted to look good when she returned to Bertha. She would of course; she would look good even if she took that sad little dingy over there, but it never hurt to burgal something really grand.

She continued along the T-shaped dock. Camicazi reached the edge of the dock, and looking to either side, deciding that these ships were simply not good enough.

"Ooh, that's the one," whispered Camicazi as her eyes landed on the perfect ship. It was small, with a small sail that sat dead center, but it was freshly painted. Its majestic frame was set against the dim light of Berk rising in the background. The village lights blinked like a new set of stars, beckoning to her, calling her to take the ship. _Fearless_ shone in low, gold lettering against the deep brown of the ship. Fearless. That was the ship for an escaping heiress.

Cami jumped from the dock and landed with scarcely a thud on the swaying deck. Hiccup stood on the edge of the wooden plank that led to the ship. He was happy for Cami. She was going to leave, she was going home, but at the same time… Hiccup wished that she would stay with him. They could go off on adventures in the woods and talk on the hills like he used to do with Fishlegs. They could burgal stuff from the twins and pull pranks on Snotlout. He knew that it was selfish for him to want her to stay, but he could have a friend again.

"You can come with me you know," Cami said from her new ship.

"What?" Hiccup must have not heard her right.

"You're a good burglar. And you're smart –for a boy," Camicazi couldn't leave that part out. Hiccup was great in every way except for that one slight flaw.

"I wish I could," Hiccup smiled a longing grin. "But I need to stay here."

Camicazi rolled her eyes. "No you don't. You don't belong here. From what I've seen you're the only smart one on this whole island."

"I know that," Hiccup's smile remained, but Camicazi noticed he was no longer looking at her. Instead his eyes had fallen to the shore behind her. "I need to stay here. I need to… make up for what I've done."

His smile disappeared.

So it was true. Camicazi thought. She had heard the rumors. As hard as Stoick had tried, he had been unable to stop them from spreading. Hiccup was responsible for some boy's death.

"What if you can't?" Camicazi asked slowly. For the first time in her life she didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to respond to that? Hiccup was sorry, that much was clear. He wanted to be forgiven, but from what she had seen most of the people on Berk had forgiven him.

Hiccup shrugged and smiled again, but Camicazi knew that it was a fake smile this time. It probably had been all along.

"I have to try."

Camicazi closed the distance between herself and Hiccup, and offered her hand to him. "Norns watch over you, Hiccup."

Hiccup shook her hand, and Camicazi set her course for home.

She didn't look back. Hiccup needed to forgive himself on his own. She knew that he could do it. Hiccup was a fighter. She had seen it before beating up that boy the other night. If she hadn't intervened, Hiccup would have gotten out of it. He was going to okay. Oh, Freyja! She hoped that boy was going to be okay.

* * *

Stoick pulled a wet Hiccup onto the ship. His son stumbled and fell.

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your own heir be rescued by another?" Stoick tried to remain passive, but he could feel his anger boiling over and it was all that he could do to not yell at his son. Tonight had been going so well. He and the other chiefs were having a great time until one of the Meathead guards had stormed in, bringing with him reports of a terrible howling erupting from beneath the earth. Now that had been a promising adventure. Stoick had hefted his hammer and gone out with Bertha and Mogadon only to find that the howling had ceased, and that Mogadon's boy had his arms around his own as Hiccup was being pulled from the still water.

"I'm sorry dad. I—"

"And at a Thing no less!" Stoick found it harder and harder to whisper, and the ale was making it almost impossible for him to keep his voice level.

"—didn't know that there was a Monstrous Strangler down there."

"What could possibly have possessed you to go down there in the first place?"

Hiccup stopped trying to convince his dad that it was an accident. Stoick did not know that it had actually been Cami's idea. If he told his dad that he was just helping a friend, maybe he wouldn't be so mad. But then, Cami would get in trouble.

"I heard that there might be treasure," Hiccup said. He couldn't get his friends in trouble.

"Treasure? You were out looking for treasure down there?"

Hiccup nodded slowly. His eyes were fixed on the wooden floor at his father's feet.

"Hiccup—"

"I'm sorry, dad," Hiccup dared to glance upwards; his father had his arms crossed over his chest, clearly in wait of an explanation. "I just wanted them to like me," Hiccup stammered. It was true in a way. He wanted Thuggory to like him, and Cami… well…she could get Hiccup to do anything.

"You just wanted them to like you?" Stoick seemed taken aback and for a moment Hiccup hoped that his father might pity him. "You just want to be liked?"

Hiccup cringed. His father was about to start yelling.

But instead he smiled. "I can fix this. We can make you the most beloved heir in the archipelago. Imagine it, Stoick the Vast, and his son: Hiccup the Dexterous. Together we would be the envy of every other tribe! Go on thrilling voyages, conquer far-away lands, kill dragons previously unknown to any Viking –"

"No!" Hiccup shouted, stepping backwards to a more comfortable distance. He just wanted to feel like he was part of the village. "None of that would matter! Being your son has done nothing to help me, it just makes everything worse! How could any of that help when Berk doesn't see me as anything other than an accessory to their great Stoick the Vast? They call me Hiccup the Useless for Thor's sake! How am I supposed to fix that? No. I don't want to be beloved," Hiccup almost spat the last word. He couldn't bear to be an outsider any longer, but he didn't want to change who he was. He just wanted his father.

"Well, then what do you want?" The chief yelled back.

"I don't know!" How could he say that the only thing he wanted was his father's love? For his father to actually say the simple words instead of having to repeat them to himself?

"A new sword? Axe?" Stoick started listing off everything that would have made him happy as a boy.

"No."

"Hammer?"

"No, I—"

"A girl? What can I give –"

"I want to be accepted by your tribe!" Hiccup screamed.

Stoick stopped. He didn't understand what his son meant, but he felt the words claw and tear at his heart all the same. "What do you mean?"

"Dogsbreath," It was barely a whisper, but the claws dug deeper into Stoick's chest. "It's my fault that he's dead."

"How is it your fault?" Stoick didn't understand why his son was saying. Vikings died. It was an occupational hazard, as the saying went. But if his son was to blame, if he had caused the death of his friend, that was another matter. Stoick knew plenty of good men who had gone to Valhalla under his command. It could be argued that the chief sent them to their deaths by leading them into battle, but that was what Vikings did. It was an understanding among Vikings that this blame was to be directed not at their commander, but at their killer –dragon or Viking alike. Hiccup would have to grow up. He would have to accept the fact that people would die under his care. It wasn't anything to be happy about, but one couldn't dwell on such things too much.

"I didn't do anything!" Hiccup screamed "I should have jumped like Snotlout and Fishlegs, but I froze. I just couldn't move and… Dogsbreath stopped and threw me across rather than save himself. He wouldn't be dead if I weren't such a coward," Hiccup took a deep breath, steadying himself on his feet before finally admitting what he knew all along: "I'm the one who should be dead."

"Hiccup… I… I…" Stoick knelt down in front of his son and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Hiccup glanced up at his father, tears running down his shaking cheeks and vibrating against his quivering lip. Stoick had never seen his son act like this before. He had always assumed that his son was as strong as he was. It never occurred to him that his son would be any different.

A burst of laughter carried over from the main hall, the feast was still going strong. Stoick glanced quickly over his shoulder. He needed to get back. He had left Bertha and Mogadon alone together for too long, Thor knows he would pay for whatever schemes they'd made without him tomorrow.

"Hiccup, I… I need to get back," A chief's duty is to his people, and sometimes –sometimes that meant leaving your son when you know that he needs you to be with him. "Can we talk more about this in the morning?"

"Yeah… dad," Hiccup mumbled. "A chief's duty is to his people." He numbly repeated the adage.

Stoick turned away from Hiccup; he couldn't bear to see the abandoned look in his eyes. He would be there for the boy. He was going to be a better father, but not tonight. Tonight, he had to be a chief.

* * *

My little-brother rolled over against my side. He pressed his back to my scales and looked up at the dim stars above us.

I held perfectly still, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. His scent was light brown; slowly oscillating and swirling between blue and orange as he pondered his existence. I wanted to reach out to him, I wanted to pull him into my conscious, but I knew that I should not do that. It was against our nature. We did not share dreams with the two-legs. This rule was different than the one the queen told me so long ago, that was about manners, but this... this was about our nature. I do not remember learning it; it just felt like I always have known it as a fact of life. The two-legs can never know about the Ginnungagap. No matter how much it pained me, no matter how much I wanted to help my brood-love, I could never envelope him in my own consciousness.

My little-brother sighed, a soft moan of unhappiness escaping his mouth. He closed his eyes, and tried to fall back into the grip of his dreams.

I watched my brood-love's breathing begin to slow. He deserved happy dreams. He deserved to be happy, and I could make him happy. I could show him joy, pleasure, love –all l had to do is break the one law of nature that had been instilled upon me since hatching.

But my brood-love was worth it, right? Was it not my responsibility to do whatever I could to make my little-brother happy? He had already proven himself to be more like a dragon than a two-legs, and he was my hatchling after all. He had flown from the cliff to become my little-brother and my brood-love. He was part of the flock.

So, I could guide his dreams. I could take him into my mind not as a two-legs, but as a dragon. That should be okay, why would it not be? I could do it subtly, make it so that he would not even realize that I was the one in control of his dreams. No dragon should disapprove of that. My little-brother would not learn about the Ginnungagap. For everything that he had done for me, and for everything that had happened to him, my brood-love deserved happiness.

I shifted slowly, carefully moving my wings and head so as to not wake my little-brother; I gently lowered my snout to his head. I pressed my jaw to his forehead and took a deep breath. He deserved to be happy.

* * *

"My cheat-sheet!" My brood-love cried in alarm. He strained against his harness, reaching back over his shoulder as he grasped in vain for his paper. His cry of fear intensified into a shriek of terror as the metal ring that connected him to the saddle slipped from its lock. My little-brother tumbled back away from the Ginnungagap-Toothless, clawing at the leather and black scales as he fell away, back down to the ground far, far, below.

I smiled, I knew just what to do; my little-brother was going to love this. I willed the air to condense beneath my little-brother's forelegs. I poured brown color into it, hardening the tearing air into webbing that stretched along his sides and ran up to his paws.

My little-brother flailed his forelegs, staring in fascination at the wings that had sprouted in between his forelegs.

"Yeah!" He shouted. My brood-love had never had a dream like this before. He was flying!

The Ginnungagap-Toothless somersaulted in the air, gliding back down to my little-brother. Its tail had been repaired, and the leather harness had melted away along with the rudder-like replica of its fin. I was whole again.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless flared its wings, catching the wind and halted its descent. It opened its mouth, lolling its tongue, and gave my little-brother my toothless grin. The Ginnungagap-Toothless bent its wing and spiraled down away from my little-brother.

"Oh, no you don't!" My brood-love laughed as he reciprocated the action and followed after his friend. Ducking into a spin, he quickly plummeted through the white stream that the Ginnungagap-Toothless carved through the clouds. "You can't get away from this Viking!" He called as he tore past his Ginnungagap-Toothless who had pulled out of its spin, and was looking for my brood-love.

Ahead of the flying pair, a series of stone columns emerged in the light fog. Jagged teeth of rock jutted from the crashing white waves, filling the air with the call of adventure and danger.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless snorted at the challenge and raced after my brood-love, pulling up alongside of my little-brother and giving him a quick look that could only mean one thing: bet I can beat you to the other side.

"You're on."

My little-brother bent forward, catching the downstream of the ocean air, and surged forward. The swift current pulled him closer to the stones ahead. The Ginnungagap-Toothless pounded its wings and followed after my brood-love who dared to look over his shoulder. The Ginnungagap-Toothless was gaining on him. Its mouth hung open as it panted in excitement from the race.

They entered beneath the first arch of the stones. My brood-love threw himself to the left, twisting his arm, and veered away to avoid colliding with a wall of rock. He lost sight of the Ginnungagap-Toothless, who went right. His eyes darted around his surroundings, identifying small gaps in the towers before him while searching to make sure that he was still winning.

My brood-love spiraled around a stone-tower. The exit revealed itself in the distance; he was almost there, and there was not a Toothless in sight.

An explosion shattered the air, and my little-brother saw a burst of plasma to his right. The tower collapsed and the Ginnungagap-Toothless broke through the falling debris, emerging with its neck and head ahead of my little-brother. They escaped the shadow of the last tower. The race was over.

"No fair!" He shouted. The Ginnungagap-Toothless had cheated. They never agreed that breathing fire was allowed.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless laughed my low warble and crowed victoriously.

"Fine. You win," My little-brother laughed with his friend. He would win next time.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless breathed a purple blast to end its celebration. The wall of fire rolled back towards my little-brother.

"Oh, come on."


	9. Proud

**Disclaimer: all rights go to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.**

**Thank you Hictooth7624, Princesstrixiesparkle22, Bfc3, Kuronique Misaki, Jade36963, and Frostystuffs for following this story.**

**Sorry for the wait!**

**onwards...**

* * *

"So, how was he?" Stoick asked anxiously. Gobber closed the door slowly behind him.

"Great, actually," Gobber said without any trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"Really?"

"Well, I mean, there were a few mistakes here and there at first, but the boy's got talent," Gobber shrugged. "An' he seems to enjoy it."

"That's good," Stoick sighed. He felt as if the weight of Midgard had been lifted from his shoulders. His son was doing something that would keep him busy, and Hiccup was enjoying this chore. That was the best news that he had heard in a long time. Stoick wanted his son out of the way; he had been starting to get troublesome. Constantly getting into fights, although he would never tell who it was that hit him, causing trouble, disappearing for hours on end only to return late at night, and that didn't even begin to talk about all of the trouble that Hiccup had caused during the raids. Just two nights ago, Hiccup had managed to trip over his own two feet, startling a Nadder, and he almost got Clueless killed in the process.

And so, for the benefit of his son, Stoick had asked his friend to give his son an apprenticeship. He had expected Hiccup to complain, to hate him for forcing him into such a dreary job, but if he liked doing it –that made everything better. His son might not hate him after all.

That was what he feared. Stoick stayed up at night, waiting for his son to come back home. Waiting to hear the door creak closed, and for Hiccup's soft steps to tiptoe up the stairs to his bed, all the while he was plagued by the singular dread that he was the reason his son stayed out in the cold.

"Oi! Yer telling me. Here I thought that boy was going to be a disaster, but ye never told me he was so creative."

Stoick felt these words like an axe to his heart. He had not known that his son was the creative type. "Hiccup's already found a few ways to improve the forge," Gobber continued, oblivious to the fact that his chief was no longer listening.

How much about my own son do I not know? Stoick thought to himself. He had always told himself that he would be there for Hiccup tomorrow, but a chief's duty is to his people. Even though he hated it, he had to put his son second. He had to prioritize the safety of the village before his son's love.

If it weren't for the Hel forsaken beasts, if it weren't for the dragons, maybe then he would finally have the time to speak with his son. He would not have to rush away to fix another house, to find food for a newly orphaned child, to comfort a grieving parent. Stoick could finally be a father.

"Stoick? Are ye even listening to me?"

Stoick looked back to his friend. He had not been listening. "I'm sorry, Gobber. I was just..."

"Thinking about Hiccup."

Stoick nodded his head, although Gobber couldn't see it through the colossal mess of hair that Stoick called a beard, his friend was starting to smile.

"Eh, I get that. Yer proud of him."

Stoick nodded his head again, still unable to find words to bring himself to proclaim his happiness. He might have a chance to repair things with Hiccup.

Hiccup took a sharp intake of breath from his hiding place at the top of the stairs. His father was proud of him? He knew that his father loved him, but that was just what fathers did. All fathers loved their sons, but that his was proud of him? That was a thought that Hiccup had never allowed to cross his mind. He knew –thought –that pride was another one of the many emotions that his father would never have towards him, but now… he still couldn't believe it. He still could not allow himself the glimmer of light that his father was proud of him. After all how could Stoick the Vast ever be proud of Hiccup the Useless?

And yet, here was undeniable evidence that his father was proud of him. Not ten paces away his father was telling Gobber that he was proud of his son.

"Hear anything good?" Cami whispered from above him.

Loki! Hiccup almost screamed. He had completely forgotten that she was up in his room. That was why he had been sneaking downstairs after all. He was making sure that the coast was clear before Cami could leave the security of his room.

Hiccup nodded his head, unwilling to turn away from the wonderful scene set before him. Unfortunately, Gobber spotted this movement.

"Oi! Hiccup, come on down," He gestured towards a chair by the fire.

"Crap," Hiccup cursed.

* * *

"Ye finally got yer wish. Hiccup's stopped trying," Gobber scowled at his chief.

"I never wanted this," Stoick said. He just wanted his son to be happy. "I just wanted my son to be loved."

"Then why did ye stop loving him?"

Stoick glared at the village blacksmith. He hated Gobber sometimes. He hated that Hiccup cared more about his mentor than his own father, and he really hated that Gobber could make Hiccup happy. But above all else, he hated the tone Gobber used whenever they spoke of Hiccup, a tone that implied that he knew, and cared, more about Hiccup than Stoick.

"I never stopped loving—"

"He certainly thought ye did! Hiccup would come in everyday, complaining about how ye never listen, about how ye would never talk with him, about how ye hated him."

"I never hated him!"

"Well, ye did a great job o' showing that!"

"Hiccup…." Stoick stopped. What could he say? He had tried, he had tried everything, and yet his son was still unhappy. Hiccup felt unwanted, unloved, useless… he felt like a coward. Ever since Hiccup had confessed his shame to him at the Thing, Stoick had noticed his son drifting further and further away from him. Stoick could rally a weary troop of Vikings, get them ready for one final battle. Hel! He could even get them to fight Nidhogg if he needed, but he could not get Hiccup to feel better about himself. He could not get through to his own son while the blacksmith made it sound like the easiest thing in Midgard.

"What am I supposed to do, Gobber?" The whisper was as soft as the sea-breeze outside.

"Put him in dragon training."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Stoick paused, considering his friend's proposal. Hiccup was the right age for it, and the next group of children was going to be starting in the next week, but they had all been training for the last year to be ready for it; many of them for even longer. That Hofferson girl had been training ever since her family moved to Berk.

"I can't lose him. I can't let those beasts take away more of my family."

"Then ye need to let him learn how to defend himself."

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no. I won't let my son put himself in danger."

"Chief," A voice called from outside of the forge. "The Ingerman's and the Thorston's are at it again."

Stoick sighed, his work was never done.

"Will ye at least think about it?" Gobber asked.

"I… I will," Stoick gripped his friend's arm, and turned to deal with this new problem.

Gobber nodded his head, and as soon as his chief was out the door he began whistling softly to himself. He turned towards the never-ending pile of work that lay before him: the dull swords, the broken axe-handles, the bent armor, and the broken hearts—actually, that one he was about to cross off his list.

"So, will ye admit that he still loves you now?" Gobber said as he approached the stack of swords.

"Did you know I was listening?" His young apprentice asked, emerging from the shadows of the back room.

"For the most part, yes," Gobber admitted. "But Stoick didn't. So…"

Hiccup frowned and turned his back on his mentor. Hiccup knew that his father loved him. He would have left long ago if that wasn't the case.

"Then why can't he ever say it?" Hiccup challenged, but already knowing what the smith was going to say he sighed, "I know," before mimicking his mentor's voice: "He just isn't all that good with words," Hiccup turned back to Gobber. "But why doesn't he try?"

Gobber lifted one of the swords and passed it over to Hiccup.

"He's afraid of losing his son," Hiccup eyed the dull blade and carried it over to the grindstone.

"He isn't going to lose me," Hiccup said.

"How can ye be so sure of that?" Gobber challenged.

Hiccup stopped, setting the sword by the stone. "What do you mean?"

Gobber cast a quick glance at the boy, as if to judge how ready he was for the conversation to follow. "Stoick's told me about what happened at the Thing."

Stoick had only told him about it this last year, after Hiccup had sunk The Peregrine Falcon. Gobber had stormed up to Stoick and demanded to know if he had known about his apprentice's guilty conscious. It had taken many pints, and even a few blows, but Stoick had finally told him everything.

"What about it?" Hiccup asked warily.

"Ye stopped talking to him after that night for starters."

"How can I talk to him when he's ashamed of me?" Hiccup could feel his voice threaten to crack as he tried to keep himself from shouting. "He's ashamed to have such a coward for a son."

Gobber laughed, bending over his anvil and slapping the metal with his remaining hand.

"What's so funny?" Hiccup asked, taking a step back away from his mentor.

"It's just…" Gobber struggled to find the right words. "How could ye be a coward? Wasn't it just three weeks ago that I had to stop you from launching yerself at that Nightfury with a catapult?"

"I wasn't going to launch myself," Hiccup complained.

"Oh, then just what were ye doing in the basket?" Gobber challenged.

Hiccup blushed and mumbled. "I –fell in after the Nightmare attacked."

"An' remind me again of why that Nightmare attacked you?"

"I slapped it," It really had been an accident. Hiccup hadn't been looking at where he was going, and just happened to run into it.

"Oh, yes. Very cowardly," Gobber nodded his head vigorously. "Everyone knows that only the worst Vikings around go fist to fang with a Nightmare."

Hiccup avoided eye contact with his mentor as he retrieved another sword to add to his pile of work.

Gobber sighed. Hiccup hadn't done anything like that in a long time now. He had even managed to stay inside during the last raid, and while usually he would celebrate that fact, it only made Gobber worried. Hiccup seemed to have given up on 'earning the village's love.' Gobber scoffed. As if the boy ever had to earn it.

Seeing that his apprentice was not going to respond, Gobber began to speak again. "He can't be the only one to try ye know."

"But I am trying!" Hiccup hefted the sword against the spinning stone, causing sparks to burst across the room.

"When's the last time you did anything outside of this forge?" Gobber folded his arm across his chest.

"Just last week I went down to the docks."

"Oh, yes," Gobber said dryly. "How could I forget about the time you got some fish from Clueless?"

"Hey, I—" Hiccup started to argue.

"Fine! So ye have left the forge, but when was the last time ye did something with Fishlegs? When was the last time ye tried to ask out Astrid, or pulled a prank with the twins? When was the last time ye tried to kill that Nightfury?"

Hiccup pulled the sword away from the grindstone. "They never really liked me; everyone's happier now that Useless has stopped getting in their way."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is!" Hiccup shouted, throwing the sword down to the ground. "They hate me."

"No, they hate who ye pretend to be," Gobber said plainly. Why couldn't the boy see that? The other kids would love who he really was, they would talk to him, play with him, and yes, maybe even date him, if only Hiccup would just be himself instead of trying to be something that he wasn't. He wasn't the largest Viking around, and he certainly wasn't the strongest, but a good warrior needed more than muscles. A Viking could also be smart, but Hiccup didn't see that.

He focused solely on what he was not, when he should have been focused on what he was. He really was an exceptional youth, but he couldn't see that. He couldn't see that he was going to be remembered as one of the smartest Vikings to ever walk the cliffs of Berk.

"What—"

"They hate walls ye put up around yerself, they hate that stupid grin ye do –everyone knows that it's fake –yet ye do it anyways! Ye hide behind sarcasm to protect yerself the fact that ye aren't like the other kids."

Hiccup whirled away from his mentor.

"Don't you do that to me now…" Gobber complained quietly, "Do you really think the village needs another Snotlout? Or Odin forbid another Tuffnut?"

When Hiccup didn't respond, Gobber sighed and continued.

"What I mean to say is that ye need to stop spending all yer time tryin' to be some big brawny warrior, and spend more time tryin' to be Hiccup—stop trying to earn yer father's love. Ye already have it."

"But he doesn't—" Hiccup mumbled.

"Fine then. Keep it in yer head that he hates you, what does it matter? I love you. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"You... love me?" Hiccup turned around, and smiled, his real smile this time.

The smith paused, for a moment he was at a loss for words. Was the simple acknowledgement of affection that important? Had the boy never heard those words before?

"Not like that," Gobber pushed those thoughts from his mind, and forced a laugh, pulling the boy close to him. "Yer the best apprentice I've ever had, and ye've become almost like a…" Gobber trailed off. Stoick would not like where this conversation was going.

"Son?" Hiccup asked, dragging his sleeve beneath his nose.

Oh, what the Hel. What did he care what Stoick thought? "One that I couldn't be prouder of."

* * *

"Just how long did you think you could hide it from me?" The large-two-legs called a greeting as it shouldered its way through the small wooden entrance to my brood-love's den.

"I don't know what you're—" My little-brother started to speak, only to be cut off by the larger two-legs.

"Nothing happens on this island without me hearing about it."

"Oh?"

"So, let's talk about that dragon." The large-two-legs said with its teeth bared.

"Oh, Gods! Dad, I'm sorry, I…" My brood-love finally brought himself to look up into its face. "You're not… upset?" He asked. He did not understand why the larger two-legs was not yelling at him. My little-brother expected the larger-two-legs to be disappointed or mad when it discovered me.

"What? I was hoping for this!"

"Uhh... you were?" My brood-love was definitely confused now. Whatever the larger-two-legs was saying did not make any sense.

"And believe me, it only gets better. Just wait 'til you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time! Oh, and mount your first Gronckle head on a spear! What a feeling!" The larger-two-legs laughed and leaned forward. "You really had me going there, son! All those years—the worst Viking Berk has ever seen!"

The larger-two-legs continued, oblivious to the sudden explosion of sadness within my brood-love. His face fell, his shoulders suddenly slumped back in towards his chest, and every trace of the orange hue that I had worked so hard to cultivate was obliterated by towering wave of blue that seeped from every pore. My brood-love was miserable.

It had all been a lie, my brood-love thought bitterly. All of it. The larger-two-legs never loved him; it had merely pretended to care while waiting for him to become something better.

I fought every urge I had to will myself into existence, to burst into form before my brood-love and strike down the cruel-two-legs before me. I felt my head begin to gain form. Scales began materializing along my snout and chest.

No, I could not let my little-brother see me! My one remaining instinct still drove me; I could not have him learn about the Ginnungagap. Not yet at least.

I closed my eyes, willing my body to fade, and swirled the dream around me, creating a twisting vortex of clouds to envelop everything. Tearing and clawing at the misery around my brood-love, I gently brought him back to Midgard where he would wake up in the comforting grip of my paws.

When I opened my eyes, the hated-two-legs sat, frozen before me. Its expression was still one of malicious glee. Its cruel laughter echoed around the empty void. I formed my head, and took a deep breath. The void flashed and the hated-two-legs burst into flame. I snorted with satisfaction.

For now it was enough, but if I ever saw it in Midgard… the two-legs would burn for what it did to my brood-love.


	10. Yearning

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. **

**Thank you x1tears1x and Huidaman for following this story. **

**Thank you all for reading this! It's been fun to write, and really nice to see people review and favorite this. This was my first attempt at a fanfiction, and it's been a great experience. Thank you all for being supportive and just generally a wonderful audience.**

**Lastly, a special thanks to Driscoll. This story would not have been nearly as good without his help. **

**I feel like I should leave a quote; something poignant or sad. Something about goodbyes, or about this not being the end, but I couldn't find anything that wasn't really cheesy. So, I figured I might as well end this with my own little brand of cheesiness, with one final inside joke, with one final request: **

**One final onwards.**

* * *

"Hiccup!" A small-female-two-legs ran into my brood-love, who as usual, was not paying attention to his surroundings. The female-two-legs fell to the ground, dragging my brood-love with it, and buried its long claw in his round-tree.

If I had allowed my head to materialize, I would have been shaking it in amused disappointment. My little-brother should know better than to not pay attention during a fight, even if it was against a juvenile sky-scales who just wanted to play.

"Ooh, love on the battlefield," One of the other two-legs crooned.

"She could do better," A similar-looking-two-legs added.

The female-two-legs jerked its head up. The sky-scales was running straight for them. The female-two-legs pulled at its talon, its muscles straining to unfix the talon from the tree.

"Just," My little-brother struggled to speak as the crazy-two-legs on top of him kicked his chest through the tree. "Let… me… why…" It planted its leg on his cheek and tore the talon out, along with a sizable section of the tree.

The two-legs spun towards the charging sky-scales, and raked its talon across her head. The sky-scales squawked in pain and retreated back into its cage, grumbling that the game wasn't fun anymore.

"There, you got it," My brood-love said, rubbing a paw against his cheek as he sat up.

"Well done, Astrid," The missing-leg-two-legs yelled from the edge of the stone pit.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" The female-two-legs shouted. "Our parents' war is about to become our war! Figure out whose side you're on."

It turned away and began walking away from my brood-love.

"Why does there have to be sides?" He asked. His question was barely a whisper, but the female-two-legs heard it. It froze, and whirled back to him.

"They don't give us a choice!"

My brood-love cringed, and raised his forelegs in appeasement to the snarling-two-legs. "When have we ever given them one?"

I did not like where this dream was headed. My brood-love could not become sad again, ever since his dream of that large-infuriating- two-legs, my little-brother had become distant. He had not shown up for a full sun after that, and it had taken him another two moons before he spent one in my cove. I would not –I could not—allow him to regress. He would stay happy even if it meant that I had to personally watch every one of his dreams. My brood-love would be happy.

I stopped the dream, but it was much too early to wake my brood-love. The moon was still high in Midgard. Shifting the Ginnungagap, I pulled my little-brother to a happier memory. One without this yelling-two-legs where he could be happy. Maybe this dream would remind him that not all two-legs were bad, that life was worth living.

The mist of Ginnungagap solidified again, forming tall trees and long, swaying grass. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting the shadows away and bringing my brood-love into view.

He was followed by a small-round-two-legs. It walked beside him as they observed the quite forest around them.

"What are we doing here?" My little-brother broke the silence.

"I found out a way that we can be popular," The round-two-legs chirped back.

"What is it this time?" My little-brother groaned, despite having his teeth bared.

"There's only six of us, right?"

"Uhh… who's us?"

"You, me, the twins, Snot, and Dogsbreath," The two-legs rattled off. "We're going into dragon training together."

"But that's in eight years."

"Yes, but –but, I think that they'll all be friends by then, so…"

My brood-love shook his head. He had no idea what the two-legs was going on about.

"So, what?"

"There's only a twelve percent chance that Snot will stop being an idiot, but there's a twenty percent—"

"What are you talking about?" My brood-love stopped walking. He wanted to know what he was getting into.

"Err… percent. I found a book of them in my parent's room."

"Percents?"

"Just percent. They, err… they say if something will happen or not. Like, who will win dragon training."

"And how does this help us?" My little-brother asked, resuming his walk.

"You'll see," The talkative-two-legs crooned. "They're just up ahead."

"Wait! They?" My brood-love stopped again, his face twisting into a torn mask of confusion and fear.

"I say we jump out an' scare 'em," A two-legs' voice carried through the borders of the dream.

"Nuh-uh! They'll be expecting that," A different voice shouted back. "We should hide!"

"But we've done that!"

"What did you do?" My brood-love asked, taking a step back from the shouting-two-legs.

"Not here."

"Uh-huh."

"They can help us," The small-two-legs assured.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ha! Made you say no."

"Help us? Listen to them," My brood-love kept his voice low, as if he were afraid of being overheard by the annoying-two-legs. "What can they do?"

"Shh!"

"You, shh!"

"Just, give them a chance. If we get them to like us, then that's seventy percent of them that like us. We'll be popular."

"Is that right?" My brood-love asked as the similar-looking-two-legs leapt in front of him, yelling a wordless howl as they attempted to scare my little-brother.

They scowled, slumping their shoulders in disappointment when my brood-love did not get scared. The female-two-legs recovered first, and pushed its other half away.

"You've come to the right place," The female said, twisting its paws before it in a strange gesture.

"We are masters of all," The other chimed in.

"Uhh…" My little-brother started to back away.

"Why are you here?" The female-two-legs lowered its voice.

"Uhh…" He was still confused.

The other two-legs stepped forward. "We just wanted to hang out."

"Ugh. Why?" The male asked.

"We thought it would be fun."

"No. Why would we do that?" The male continued; glancing at its other half, a dim light in its eyes as its mouth hung partway open.

"Who knows?" The other shrugged back.

"Let's go."

"Yeah, Dogsbreath still needs some payback."

The similar-two-legs both turned and dashed into the woods.

"We can help!" The small-two-legs shouted.

"We're listening," The two-legs reappeared, flipping their legs over a tree branch and hung themselves upside down. I had no idea how they could have gotten there so quickly, but due to the unconcerned look on my brood-love's face, this trick must have been ordinary two-legs-magic.

"Hiccup can get into Gobber's forge," The little-two-legs rambled, holding its paws close to its chest. "There's stuff there that you can use."

The similar-two-legs turned their heads towards each other, baring their teeth in appreciation of the small-two-leg's appeasement.

"What are you waiting for?" They both called, slinging their legs from around the tree and falling to the ground below.

"Told you it'd work," The small-two-legs whispered.

"Nothing's happened," My brood-love said.

"But it will."

"Why do we want something to happen, again?" My brood-love asked.

"Come on, this is our chance to be like them."

The small-two-legs ran ahead, catching up the other two-legs who had walked ahead of my little-brother.

"What if I don't want to be like them?" He said quietly to himself.

Receiving no response my brood-love sighed and raced after the other young-two-legs.

The two-legs-nest appeared through the trees. A collection of wooden dens and earthen mounds rose into the sky, towering above my little-brother, though I knew them to be small enough to jump over. The similar-looking-two-legs crouched low to the ground; they prowled forward with hunched backs and raised paws, slinking in between the dens as if they did not want to be seen—although my little-brother was much harder to spot, despite walking the way a two-legs normally walks.

"Why are you two doing that?" My little-brother asked.

"Shh, we're sneaking," The male said.

"Shh, I'm trying to sneak," The other chastised, glaring at its other half.

The similar-two-legs stood up straight, each pressing their head against the other, as they made a _Shhhh_ sound in the other's face. Somehow they managed to keep walking forward while doing this.

"Err... guys," The small-two-legs interrupted the strange two-legs-ritual. "Guys! The forge is this way."

"I knew that."

"No you didn't."

"Uh-huh!"

"Nu-huh!"

My brood-love scowled; evidently the similar-two-legs annoyed him as much as they did me.

"Why are we doing this again?" He asked.

"If they like us, then it'll be easier to get Snot or Dogsbreath to like us," The small-two-legs replied. "It's percent."

"I still don't think these percents are a good thing," He grumbled in response, but he had his teeth bared. My little-brother seemed to be enjoying this adventure of his, even if he did not want to admit it.

It was nice to see him happy with other two-legs for a change. It made me feel….

No. I pushed that thought from my head. My brood-love was different from the other two-legs. He was unique in his acceptance of my kin; the other two-legs are not willing to make peace. That stone pit was evidence enough of that. The two-legs kept dragons there. They beat them with their talons and blocked them from the sky. No. My little-brother was alone in his acceptance of my kin.

The group of two-legs halted before a den; this one was different from the rest. It was made of more stone than tree, and through a hole in its wall I could see dozens of two-legs-talons and things of two-legs-magic.

"Ooo," The similar-two-legs cooed together, it was almost as if they had never been to this den before. My little-brother reached forward with his paw, and pushing aside the tree wall, created a large hole in the den.

"We coulda' done that," The female groaned.

"Yeah, why'd we need him?" The other-half-two-legs complained.

"Hiccup knows where all of the good stuff is," The small-two-legs said, much to the amusement of the other two-legs.

"Uhh… I do?" My brood-love asked quietly.

"Yes."

"But I don't—"

The similar-two-legs fell forward, scrambling against each other as they charged heedlessly into the unfamiliar den.

My little-brother cringed at the sound of falling debris as the two-legs ran around the enclosed den. He could not believe that he was letting them do this. It was not like he could stop them if he wanted, the door did not have a lock after all, it was just –he did not want to be yelled at.

"Look what I found!" The female-two-legs shouted, holding a small branch with a round talon attached to its end.

"Put that back!" My brood-love shouted, finally managing to bring himself through the hole. "That's Gobber's hammering-hand."

"Eww!" It dropped the branch.

"Ooh!" The other swooned, catching the branch before it could hit the ground. "So this was inside him?"

"No –" My little-brother began before he was interrupted by the male.

"Boring," It let the branch fall to the ground. "Where's the cool stuff?"

"We can hit him with this!" The female held up a long talon that was much too heavy for it, causing the two-legs to fall over from the weight.

"Or shoot him with this!" The male held up a curved branch.

"Or! Or," My brood-love rushed forward. "We could get someone else to do it for us."

"How's that fun?" The similar-two-legs asked at the same time.

"This way you can watch while it happens," He continued. My little-brother did not want to get in trouble.

The similar-two-legs looked at each other, and nodded, folding their forelegs over their chests. "Go on."

"If you steal something from Gobber, and sneak it onto Dogsbreath, then Dogsbreath will get yelled at, and punished."

"And you can laugh at him, while Gobber screams," The small-two-legs added.

"What should we take?" The female asked.

"His axe?" The small-two-legs said.

"His hands?"

"His socks?" My little-brother suggested.

"His socks?" The female paused. "That's weird… I like it."

"Ooh, but let's just take the left ones!"

"Yeah! He'll freak when he finds out."

"Hiccup!" The two-legs froze. "What are you doing in Gobber's forge?"

My brood-love looked over his shoulder towards the den's hole. The hated-two-legs from a few moons ago was standing outside, but it could not see the other two-legs within.

"Uhh… I was looking for you." My brood-love said, turning his back on the others and walked towards my-most-despised-two-legs while the others fled through another hole.

That was my cue. I would not let this cruel two-legs talk to my brood-love. It would only make things worse again.

I swirled the Ginnungagap, obliterating the hated-two-legs until nothing remained of the dream save a slight white fog.

My brood-love had seen enough two-legs for a moon. He needed to see dragons. My little-brother needed to be reminded that there was good in Midgard.

I reformed the dream.

Clouds tore through the air, my brood-love hollered in excitement as the Ginnungagap-Toothless drifted in a downward arc towards the water below.

This was what he needed. A simple dream of that peaceful sun, a reminder that we could escape the hated-two-legs, a promise that things would be better in the future.

"That was amazing!" He shouted from the Ginnungagap-Toothless' back. "Is it always like that?" He asked, but the Ginnungagap-Toothless was not listening.

I remembered this part. Some fish had caught my attention.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless folded its wing, and spiraled down into the water, eliciting a laughing-shriek from my brood-love. A moment later, they reemerged with a dozen fish tails protruded from its mouth.

"A little warning next time?" My brood-love scolded from his perch.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless nodded its head, while I fought the urge to laugh. My little-brother was strange—in a good way. He would voice displeasure while radiating joy, or bare his teeth while slumping his shoulders. I did not understand him sometimes, but he never ceased to make me laugh.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless shared my sentiments, chortling from the gaps in the mouthful of fish. It looked around, spotting a small island, and began its descent so that it could properly eat with my little-brother.

He climbed down from the Ginnungagap-Toothless' back as soon as it landed, dropping to the ground and stumbling away with his teeth bared in elation. The Ginnungagap-Toothless spit out the fish in its mouth, forming a slimy pile before it followed my brood-love with its head.

"Where are you going?" It crooned. "The fish is here."

"I need to find some wood," My brood-love replied, turning back to the Ginnungagap-Toothless. "Stay here, I'll be back."

The Ginnungagap-Toothless looked down at the pile of fish, briefly considering staying behind to guard it while my little-brother wandered the unfamiliar island. The debate did not last long, and it quickly bounded over to him, nuzzling against his side with its head. He laughed and placed a paw on its black scales.

"I'm looking for some sticks for a fire. Little trees," My little-brother added in explanation.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless nodded its head. I knew that 'tree' meant tree, and the apparition ran ahead, quickly picking up several small branches while my little-brother looked around for branches of his own. It quickly ran back, and spit out its collection of branches by my brood-love's feet, before looking up for approval.

"Thank you, Toothless," My brood-love bared its teeth and picked up the slightly damp wood. "Do you think you can also start a fire for me?"

The Ginnungagap-Toothless looked at him quizzically. I did not understand him either. He set the wood down and began stacking the branches against each other. He looked back up and sighed.

"I guess I can't expect you to understand everything I say," My little-brother stopped and rocked back onto its hind legs.

"Fire," He gestured at the branches. "Fire."

He pointed at the branches then pointed at the Ginnungagap-Toothless. "You know," He mimicked the screech of my breath. "Fire," He shrugged, but I understood it that time. My brood-love wanted me to use my breath. He wanted me to set the branches on fire.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless complied, bending its head low over the branches and sighed a short spat of blue.

Soon a small fire started within the branches. My little-brother appeared pleased and sat down with his back to the Ginnungagap-Toothless. He took one of the fish, an action that would have cost any other a fierce growl and the potential loss of a paw, and placed it onto a branch, before holding it over the flames in another of his strange two-legs customs.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless guzzled a few fish politely, although it saved most of the fish for my brood-love. He needed to eat more, but try as I might I could never get him to eat more than one full fish and a bite from another. It was no wonder that he was still so small. He just did not eat as much as he should.

A flock of annoying-bug-eyed-pests flew towards my little-brother, squawking cries of 'mine' and 'fish' as they tripped over each other in an attempt to get the fish.

The Ginnungagap-Toothless growled, extending its teeth and scrunched its snout in a snarl. The low reverberating beat of the growl filled the dream; my brood-love looked up, his eyes flashing in recognition.

"Toothless?"

Oh, Hel!

I stopped growling, but I was too late. The rest of my body materialized from the fog, my little-brother had seen me. He snapped his head around and stared at the Ginnungagap-Toothless behind him.

"This is a dream," He mumbled. He looked back up to me, as I willed the Ginnungagap-Toothless to disappear, but my brood-love had already seen it. He knew that this was a dream.

"This is a dream," He repeated, this time with his teeth bared. "Wait a minute..."

He closed his eyes, and stood still for a second.

"There. You can talk to me now," My brood-love opened his eyes to see my awestruck face. I had understood that.

"How…" I couldn't believe it. I could understand my brood-love!

"It's my dream," He shrugged. "I can do whatever I want."

"You know about dreams?" I asked.

"Yeah, everyone has them."

I sighed, releasing all of my breath and tension in a prolonged huff of air. He already knew about the Ginnungagap. He already knew about the Ginnungagap! I felt cheated! I could have revealed myself to him a long time ago. I could have talked to him here instead of hiding in the folds of invisibility.

"Is there anything you want to do?" He asked. "We could fly or—"

"We can talk!" I said, more reconfirming my wondrous discovery than answering his question.

"Oh, uhh… okay. Did you have anything in mind?"

I hesitated. This was the moment I had longed for, the moment when I could finally speak to my brood-love! I…I could finally tell him everything, that he meant everything to me, that he was amazing, that he was my little-brother. But I could not think of anything to ask.

"We… you," I stuttered for the first time in my life. I did not know what to say. What could I say? I had one chance, this one moment that would forever be my first question. What could I ask?

"Why are you unhappy?" How could it be anything else?

"I'm not…." He started to deny my claim. "Oh, what's the point? I can't lie to my own subconscious," He muttered. Taking a sharp breath he continued: "I'm not happy because of what I did to you."

I pulled my lips back, revealing toothless gums. "Did to me?"

"I was the one who shot you down. I crippled you. I—"

"You gave me a reason to live," I said.

"—took… what?"

"I was miserable before you. I had no family, no brood. No anything."

"Oh, uhh… so—"

"Why are you unhappy?" I repeated the question. Despite the flutter of yellow, I could still smell a dank pit of blue buried within his scent.

"Everyone hated me until I became good in the Kill Ring."

"And?" I did not understand.

"And. I'm an outcast!"

"And I'm a Toothless. Everyone hates me, but that does not matter when I have you."

My brood-love bared its teeth and chuckled. "You are a Toothless, yes."

The sadness remained. I took a step towards my little-brother, and felt the hard stone begin to crumble beneath my feet. He was waking up! It was too soon. I wanted more time!

I lunged forward and embraced my brood-love, enveloping him in a cocoon of black scales and membrane. I pressed against him, sliding my neck and head over his shoulder as he wrapped his forelegs around my neck.

"Why are you unhappy?" I repeated one last time, as my brood-love faded from me.

* * *

My brood-love opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched his forelegs and neck, rubbing against my scales gently before rising to a sitting position amid the tangle of limbs and tail.

"I'm not," He whispered to himself.

I yawned, greeting the rising-sun with a gummy croon of pleasure. My brood-love scratched beneath my chin, causing the croon to cascade into a yowl of ecstasy. He glanced over towards the wall of stone when he thought I could not see. He was thinking about the two-legs nest.

"Dad's going to be worried about me soon," He said, while I released a mournful groan. I was wrong all those suns ago when I claimed that our words did not matter. Now, I wished for nothing more than to be back in the Ginnungagap.

My brood-love stood up to leave. I followed him to his feet and lowered my head in front of him. Closing my eyes, I gave myself to him just as I had done when he first became my hatchling.

I shuddered as his head pressed against mine. We held still for a moment, a blissful instant in the warm rays of the sun's early light, listening to the soft thud of our hearts as they sang together, pounding the harmonious beat of our bond against our chests and minds. We were happy.

"I love you, bud."

"I love you."

With that, he was gone.

My little-brother climbed to the top of the wall of stone, and for once he did not need to look back.

* * *

The End


End file.
